


The Gentlewizard Club

by Sophie_French



Series: The Gentlewizard Club [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_French/pseuds/Sophie_French
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wants what Draco wants. And if he has to snuggle up to Harry to get it, well, surely, Draco can handle that. Problem is, not sure Harry can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic. God, it just killed me. Anyway, here it is.
> 
> A huge thank you to my always wonderful beta readers/cheerleaders Cleo, Iwao and Firethesound for helping me go through it and to Zeitgeistic for her precious advice. You are brilliant, ladies, and I couldn't have done it without you! :D

When the first paper pellet fell on Harry's report, he swiped it away with his hand without a word. When the second one dropped straight into his ink bottle, he sighed, but vanished it with a flick of his wand.

It was only when the third one hit his head that he slapped the top of his desk with both hands and finally said something.

"Damn it, Malfoy, can't you go and do that somewhere else?" Harry yelled, disentangling the paper from his hair. "I'm trying to work."

Draco brought his hand to his chest in indignation, a hurt look on his face. "Why, Potter, I'm working here too."

"Working?" Harry said with a frown. "In what part of your twisted mind has casting paper pellets with a slingshot on Kingsley's face as a target anything remotely to do with work?"

"Ah, but I am refining my aim, Potter, a very important ability when you're an Auror of my calibre," Draco replied haughtily.

"With a slingshot?" Harry asked in disbelief.hea

"Well, of course, an expert Auror like me has to get used to any kind of weapons, to be prepared to face any situation."

Harry sighed again, which was something that had become quite natural around Draco in the three years they had been partners. He didn't even know why he still bothered trying to reason with the git. _Maybe I'm a masochist,_ he thought.

"Well go and refine your aim somewhere else. I have a report to write and since you won't be writing it…" he trailed off.

Of course, Draco wouldn't. He never did. Harry was always the one writing reports, which was probably for the best in the end. The one and only time Draco had to write a report had been after a particularly strenuous day that had ended up with both of Harry's arms broken.

Kingsley had insisted Draco write the report immediately, and he had complied, not without cursing Kingsley under his breath. When he had visited Harry later that night at St Mungo's, beaming like a loon, Harry had known there was trouble ahead.

He had been right; the report ended up being a giant stick figure apparently representing Harry, with both arms at a weird angle.

The next day, Kingsley had summoned them both in his office. It was the last time Draco had ever touched a report.

"Potter." Draco said shaking his head like he was addressing a three-year-old. "You wouldn't want me to do all the work here? I already was the brilliant mastermind behind the operation, so it's only fair you at least do a little something. It's a partnership, Potter, not a Malfoyship. You're not paid for me to do all the work, are you? So I come up with the clever, cunning plans, and you write the lame reports. I assure you it's very good for you and for the..."

He came closer and took a glance at Harry's scribbling, wrinkling his nose. "Well, it's at least good for you, I guess."

Harry was about to retort when a sharp thump on the window cut him short. Malfoy hastily dropped his slingshot and opened the window to let the screech owl drop the oversize package on Harry's desk, spilling his ink bottle and spreading ink all over the report in the process. Harry's eyes widened and he hastily cast a _Scourgify_ to erase the stain.

"Payday, ladies and gentlemen!" Draco said while bouncing up and down around the office until he'd reached Harry's desk and grabbed the packet. He cast a quick spell that had the packet burst open, spreading the numerous letters it contained onto every single inch of Harry's desk and spilling his ink bottle on the report once again.

"Bloody fucking hell," Harry said between clenched teeth, although he didn't know why he bothered, really, since he knew what was about to happen anyway.

Like every day, Draco would sit on Harry's desk, on a pile of unopened letters - mostly love letters Harry received in buckets at the Ministry - and start going through them. He would then laugh hard, and read the juiciest bits out loud, making tremendous fun of Harry. Sometimes, Draco would laugh so hard Harry had to hex him to get him to stop. Other times, he would storm out of their office declaiming bits and pieces from the letter he held for everybody to hear, laughing so hard he had to be escorted back by two security guards to their office. The guards would cast Harry glances that were a mix of 'we sincerely empathise' and 'you could do something about that' as they threw Draco onto the couch, still laughing.

At this point, Harry knew it was a losing battle. There was no use in trying to write his report.

* * *

"Oh my god, this one is good. Listen."

Harry lifted his head and looked at Draco perched on top of his desk, a letter in his hand and his eyes a deep grey through his reading glasses.

"I'm literally bouncing with anticipation," Harry deadpanned. He knew there was no escaping what was about to happen; if Harry had learned one thing in the past three years, is that once Draco had something in mind, nothing would stop him.

Draco frowned. "No, you're not. You're resting your lazy arse on your chair. If you are to use the term 'literally,' you have to use it literally. Like in-"

"I meant inwardly. I'm bouncing inwardly," Harry replied.

"Well that's-"

"Oh, come on, get on with it!" Harry said rolling his eyes, not wanting to listen to one of Draco's endless lectures again. It was sure to be humiliating enough for that.

"Right," Draco answered, suddenly beaming again as he remembered the reason of his glee in the first place. "Just listen to this."

He cleared his throat and held out his right arm in front of him, as if he were on the stage of a renowned Muggle theatre. He started to speak in an affected, high-pitched voice.

" _Dear Mr Potter - or may I call you Harry?_ " Draco paused for dramatic effect, fluttering his eyelashes in the most ridiculous way. Harry couldn't help smiling.

" _When I first saw you, I felt like my heart would explode in pieces and paint the whole room with my love for you._ " Draco wrinkled his nose as he let his hand fall in his lap. "This is utterly gross," he commented. "Anyway. _You are beautiful. Your beauty has no equivalent, except of course for this amazing, wonderful, stunningly handsome partner of yours._ "

Harry narrowed his eyes. "This is not in the letter."

Draco looked utterly shocked and brought his hand to his chest in indignation. "Potter? Are you accusing me of-"

"Of course not. You wouldn't do anything like that ever," Harry snorted.

"Thank you," Draco replied very seriously.

"Go on, that I can get back to work soon."

"Ha! You like it, don't you? I always knew you were an attention junkie. You always act as if you don't want people to notice you, but deep inside-"

"Malfoy, I still have this report to finish, so would you please come to the point?" Harry sighed.

"Okay, okay, Mr I-can't-get-tired-of-having-fans-fawning-all-over-my-pitiful-little-self. If you insist."

Draco readjusted his glasses on his nose and went on. " _I love everything about you. Your hair is like the brown silky seaweed from the ocean of my heart._ " He looked at Harry over his glasses. "Some substances really should be forbidden, if you're asking me. And obviously, she needs to check her eyesight," he added, shaking his head. " _Your skin looks so smooth and perfect that I want to rub my body against it until the end of times._ Wait, wouldn't that be a little bit painful after a while?"

"Okay, are you done, here?" Harry said, clasping both his hands on the desk.

Draco frowned. "What is wrong with you, today?"

"Nothing." Harry sighed.

Draco discarded the letter at once and placed his hand on Harry's forearm.

"Don't 'nothing' me, Potter. There's something up with you and if you want to finish this report and go home quickly, you'd better spill the beans right now."

Harry sighed again. "Fine. Marco left me."

"What? Marco left you?" Draco yelped.

"Shhh! No need to tell the whole building." Harry had no wish to share the details of his pathetic love life with anyone, thank you very much.

"What happened?" Draco asked again, removing his glasses swiftly and folding them.

"I- I don't know, really. We- things were going great, but then he grew distant over the last few days and I knew something wasn't quite right but I still thought it could work, you know?"

Draco nodded. Harry liked how he could go from borderline crazy to serious and attentive in a heartbeat.

"And then this morning, I woke up to an empty flat and a note."

"Show it to me," Draco ordered.

"Malfoy…"

"Come on, Potter, show it to me."

Harry sighed. "Right." He wriggled on his seat, reached into the back pocket of his jeans and handed the folded piece of parchment to Draco who took it hastily and started to read hungrily.

After a moment, Draco threw the parchment on Harry's desk with disdain and grabbed his wand, murmuring a quick " _Incendio_ ," reducing the note to ashes.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "What did you do that for?" he shouted at Malfoy, staring in disbelief at the ashes on his now definitely unusable report. Draco didn't move an inch.

"He's a bastard. You're much better off without him," Draco stated.

"But you've burned his paper and now-"

"And now, what? Now you're just going to move on and forget all about the jerk. You deserve way better than a pretentious little slimy git and you know it."

Draco's words somehow brought warmth to Harry's body.

"I thought you liked him." Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I didn't. It was clear he was just after your name and glory."

"Aren't they all," Harry replied bitterly.

"Hey, don't go all mopey on me now, Potter. At least you have a love life."

Harry saw Draco's face shut down immediately at the tiny bit of info he had just let out by mistake. Harry looked up at him and waited to see how he would react.

If Draco loved knowing every single detail on Harry's love life, it was a one-way thing only. Draco was always very private with his love life. He simply never talked about it. Every time Harry had tried to get information from him, he immediately shut down and left the room. So after a while, Harry had stopped asking altogether. After all, they were Auror partners, not necessarily friends.

"You have a report to write."

"Malfoy..."

"Now."

"Right."

Harry went back to work, and Draco went back to his desk, suddenly lost in thoughts.

* * *

Working with Malfoy really wasn't that bad. At first, they had both protested like mad when Kingsley had partnered them together. The first few days were really intense, as they both kept to their old ways, lashing out at each other, pushing their boundaries, even fighting properly once in the Atrium, biting and hair-pulling like lunatics, rolling on the floor, knowing precisely what would have the other all riled up in no time.

But it was familiar territory; it was comforting. They would fight and bicker over absolutely everything. Every single detail, from who would choose the desk in front of the window (Harry won) to who would bring coffee to the other in the morning (Malfoy won). Everything was a battle.

Harry found Malfoy particularly difficult and kept ranting on how he would do anything to change partners.

So after six months of endless complaints, Kingsley had finally given in to Harry's request and assigned him another partner.

This new partner - Anthony Goldstein - was nice. He was polite, he was non-judgemental (meaning he didn't comment on Harry's mess at all), he was doing the job, hell, he even wrote reports, which left Harry with plenty of time to do other things. Anthony Goldstein was really easy to be partnered with. He would agree with absolutely everything Harry said.

He kept looking at Harry like he was the seventh wonder of the world, drinking in his every word. Harry was very tempted to say the most inane things just to see if he could get another reaction from the guy. But then, Harry was sure that even if he told him he drank Bubotuber pus for breakfast every morning, the look of absolute awe on Goldstein's face wouldn't falter. Harry could feel his eyes on him whenever they worked at their desks and it was really weird - not to mention uncomfortable - to be subjected to so much attention. Harry even thought it was a bit creepy.

To top it all, the guy was utterly boring and dull.

Harry couldn't really nail down what bothered him about Goldstein. Maybe he tried too hard. Maybe he didn't try hard enough. Maybe the problem simply was that he was trying. Malfoy never tried anything. Malfoy just did and said absolutely anything that went through his head.

And that's how, against all odds, Harry started missing Malfoy.

He missed his grandiloquent speeches nobody ever paid attention to, he missed the slightly odd look he sported whenever a brilliant plan formed in his head. He missed Malfoy's comments on his handwriting and his pathetic love life, he missed the look of deep concentration on Malfoy's face whenever he tried to crack a difficult case. The way he would always place his elbows on his desk, chin on his thumbs, his index fingers framing his pointed face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a deep cleft forming between his eyes, half-hidden by his blond fringe. He missed how Malfoy's mouth would twitch in annoyance whenever someone delayed them. He missed how fierce and composed Malfoy was in the face of adversity. And he missed how funny Malfoy truly was.

He also missed Malfoy's touch. At first, Harry had been really surprised by how much Malfoy needed to touch people. Harry wasn't even sure he was conscious of it. Malfoy craved physical proximity. Harry didn't know if it had to do with not having been really close physically to his family when he was younger - he had no evidence of what he was thinking, but he could hardly imagine Lucius or even Narcissa being the touchy-feely kind - but it was a definite trait in Malfoy. He had to touch Harry. All the time.

It wasn't much, just little touches here and there that didn't mean anything at all. It was just- Malfoy needed the physical proximity. So whenever he sat on Harry's desk with his legs dangling from the desk (half of the time, really), his foot would be in contact with Harry's leg. Or when he read - or rather mocked - Harry's reports, he would always plant his hand firmly on Harry's shoulder, the contact so warm Harry would feel it even moments after Malfoy was gone. Or even in the field, when they were about to attack, Harry would briefly feel Malfoy's hand on the small of his back, as if trying to convey strength and courage just from the heat of his hand.

So yes, Malfoy would always touch Harry, in many, many ways, but Harry never dared touch him back. It would have felt at best awkward, at worst uncomfortable. Too intimate. Also Harry didn't want to indulge in something he knew would be terribly addictive. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to refrain from wanting more. So he kept to himself.

After a couple of months with Goldstein, Harry had to realise that he had reached the bottom and wanted Malfoy back as a partner. The look on Kingsley's face when he told him said it all. But Harry didn't care; having Malfoy back as a partner was worth Kingsley's rant about it.

And so Malfoy was back into Harry's life. Back into the most important part of Harry's life, because Harry's life was all about work. He arrived at the Ministry pretty early and left late at night. Every night. He didn't have any social interactions with people apart from Ron and Hermione who were quite busy themselves - Ron now worked full time with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Hermione was an Unspeakable - so they generally only met on the weekends. Oh, and until this morning, there had been Marco.

Harry sighed. It wasn't so much that he was in love with Marco - because let's face it, he wasn't - it was just that it had been nice to have something besides work to think about for the past few weeks. To be at the beginning of a relationship, to date someone, talk to someone, go to bed with someone. Fill the emptiness that sometimes overwhelmed Harry at night and prevented him from sleeping.

But then, like Draco had said, Harry had to move on.

Thankfully for him, working with Draco was never boring. He got further proof of that the next morning.

* * *

"I have a plan," Draco declared with an awkward lopsided grin as soon as he entered their office. No 'Good morning, how are you today, feeling better?' nothing. It didn't bother Harry; he was used to it. It was even comforting in a way: he hated small talk with a passion.

Draco hung his cloak - the light, silvery grey one that complimented his eyes - on the hook behind the door and grabbed the cup of coffee Harry had set under a stasis charm on his desk like every morning. And like every morning, Draco downed it in one go without even a simple 'thank you.' He was already too far gone with whatever he had in mind to bother with such trivialities.

"I'm all ears," Harry replied as Draco once again placed his butt on top of the mess of letters and parchments on Harry's desk, knocking over Harry's empty coffee cup in the process.

Draco didn't start talking until he was all settled, legs slightly spread next to Harry, his foot touching Harry's thigh as always.

"You need a new boyfriend."

Oh no. For some reason, Draco hated for Harry to remain single. The problem was that his numerous attempts at finding him a boyfriend had always, always ended up in disaster. Every single man Malfoy had tried to shack him up with had something terribly wrong with them. They were either just in total awe of Harry, drinking in his every word in a way that reminded him of Goldstein. Or they pretended they just didn't care about who he was, going as far as being terribly rude to him just to prove their point. Some of them were total weirdos: one guy had been so obsessed with Harry's scar that he had spent a whole fifteen minutes licking it reverently before coming into his own pants and leaving Harry slightly puzzled and frustrated. It had been awfully embarrassing.

And then, there had been Marco.

Draco had introduced him to Marco at some Ministry event a couple of months ago. Like every single time Malfoy forced someone on him, Harry had been terribly suspicious, but against all odds, Marco had been rather nice. They'd spent the night talking quietly on the balcony. Later that night, when Harry had brought him home and shagged him first on the sofa, then on the kitchen counter before moving on to the bed, he had to admit that maybe this time Draco had been quite right.

He had even allowed himself a little bit of hope after a while.

But then, everything had crumbled yesterday morning when Marco had left him. He just wasn't in love, he had stated in his pathetic little note.

Back to the start, then.

"Malfoy, I sincerely appreciate what you're trying to do here, but-"

"Now, now, Potter, let me take care of that. I have the perfect-"

Thank Merlin, a sharp sound from the window stopped Draco in his tracks. Harry saw Draco's face lose its colour in a second and knew what it meant without even turning around: a letter from the Manor.

Harry stood up and let in the elegant eagle owl, grabbing the letter and handing it to Draco who finally snapped out of his state of blankness and took it.

Harry shooed the owl away and closed the window. When he looked at Draco again, he was reading the letter, getting paler by the minute. In the end, he simply folded the parchment without a word and stuck it in the pocket of his grey trousers.

"Is that your father again?" Harry tentatively asked. He knew there was only a tenuous chance for Draco to talk to him, but he had to try anyway.

Draco nodded and the fact he had not been rudely rebuffed made Harry insist.

"Is this about…"

"He's found a serious candidate for me," Draco said blandly.

"Oh," Harry replied and his heart sank.

On very rare occasions - mostly when they were both past drunk in a Muggle pub after a particularly straining day - Malfoy had opened up to Harry about his life and prospects for the future. Harry still had difficulties understanding how things worked in Draco's family and that despite all that had happened during the war, things had not changed dramatically in pure-blood circles.

Now that the Malfoys had all escaped Azkaban - thanks in part to the precious information Lucius gave the Ministry regarding the remaining Death Eaters and to Harry's testimony for Narcissa and Draco during the trials - Lucius's only goal in life was to restore the family name. He did so mostly by being overly generous with the most influential institutions, but also by using Draco as a means to ensure the future of the family. Draco had a huge weight on his shoulders, and it was clear he didn't have a say in anything his father decided for him; there was a plan, and he just had to comply with it.

Draco never complained about it though; if anything, whenever Harry had tried to discuss this with him, he defended his father, explaining how his 'sacrifice' was just necessary and inevitable, and that he was very happy and proud even to be able to help restore the Malfoy name in the Wizarding World.

That's why all Draco had done since the end of the war was to follow his father's plans to the letter.

First, Lucius had insisted Draco went back to Hogwarts to pass his NEWTs. So Draco had gone back, braving the scorn and resentment from other students with his head held up high and passed with flying colours.

Lucius had then enjoined Draco to enrol in the Auror Corps and that's what Draco had done; he ended up being one of the top-graded Aurors graduating that year, way ahead of Harry who was excellent at practice, but not as good at theory.

And now, the only missing piece in Lucius Malfoy's grand scheme was for Draco to marry a rich, influential pure-blood witch and produce an heir to ensure continuity of the bloodline. Lucius was doing the research, activating what remained of his network of powerful friends to find a family he could join to his in order to finally find the respectability he so yearned.

"Right, so I have the perfect man f-"

"Do you know who the witch is?" Harry cut in. They were not in a Muggle Pub, they were not drunk, so there was a huge chance Draco would lose his temper very quickly. But it was worth trying.

"I-" Draco seemed to hesitate and fixed Harry intensely, before lowering his gaze and roaming Harry's desk. "Yes," he finally answered in a whisper.

Harry knew better than to say anything at that point. He had taken the first step, he would now wait for Draco to cover the rest. Or not. He kept his gaze on Draco while Draco played with the letters spread on his desk.

"She's Daphne Greengrass's sister."

"Oh, the Daphne who was in our year? The Slytherin?"

"Why of course, Potter. You wouldn't want me to marry a Hufflepuff, or worse, a Gryffindor?" Draco said sticking his tongue out and the tension lifted instantly.

"Of course not, that would be terrible," Harry replied with a chuckle and Draco smiled back at him. Harry was amazed every time at how a smile on Draco's face made him different. The very first time Draco had directed his smile at Harry was also the very first time Harry had realised how good-looking Draco was.

"So, about this boyf-" Draco's fingers suddenly froze on Harry's desk and his eyes widened. "Potter…" he whispered quickly, slowly pulling out a piece of parchment from under a stack of love letters covered in little pink hearts. "What the hell is that?" he asked looking at Harry, an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

Harry frowned. "Er, a letter?" Harry stood up and peeked at the piece of paper, his face inches from Draco's who was staring at the parchment in awe, lips slightly parted, revealing his perfect white teeth. Harry's eyes hastily dropped back to the letter. At the top of the left-hand corner was a crest printed in gold and underneath it were the words _London's Gentlewizard Club_.

"I can't believe it," Draco murmured. "They've made you Honorary Member," he said, looking up at Harry. Their eyes locked.

"What is it? Some sort of a club?" Harry asked. He had never ever heard of it.

"Some sort of a club?" Draco looked at him with a horrified look on his face. "Are you crazy, Potter? This is _the_ Gentlewizard Club!"

Harry's expression must have shown his ignorance on the subject since Draco rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell, Potter! What kind of a wizard are you?"

"Er-"

"No, don't answer that." Draco caressed the letter like it was the most precious document he'd even seen in his life and went on, his voice dreamy, full of respect. "The Gentlewizard Club is a very select and influential society founded by Norbert Cuthbert in 1305, renowned for its prestige and high-ranked members."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly, not really knowing what to think about that right now and finding himself distracted by Malfoy's flawless skin up close.

"Potter," Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Every wizard who matters in the Wizarding World would _kill_ to be part of this club. My father would _kill_ to be part of it. Hell, _I_ would kill to be part of it."

"Right, so why don't you become a member then?" Harry said, sinking heavily back into his chair.

Malfoy let out a cackle so loud it made Harry jump. Harry was sure Kingsley had heard it in his office at the other end of the building.

"Why don't I- Why don't I become a member?" he said, a bewildered expression on his face. "But Potter, you can't become a member just because you want to! Do you have any idea what it takes to be a Gentlewizard?"

"Er, no? Sorry." Harry shrugged, not knowing why he had felt like apologising.

"You're just wonderful. Please don't change anything," Malfoy snorted. "Potter, to become a member, you need to be sponsored."

"Wait a minute, I haven't been sponsored. Why am I even a member?"

Draco looked at him like he couldn't believe he was real. "He really has no idea… fascinating," he muttered as if Harry wasn't sitting right in front of him. "Potter, you are the Saviour. You are the Chosen One. You are the-"

"All right, all right I get it." Harry sighed. "Wait a minute, are you telling me that the Malfoys are not part of the, of this Gentlemen's Club?"

"Well they used to, but not anymore. Not since my grandfather anyway. And it's Gentle _wizard_ , Potter, you ignorant sod."

"Oh. So you mean your father never got sponsored?"

"Well, my grandfather died before he could sponsor Father. After that, Father did try to get sponsored - boy, did he try! - but it never worked." So money couldn't buy everything in the Wizarding World. It was a reassuring thought. "Potter, do you know what this means?" Draco's face had now completely regained its natural colour. There even was a slight flush on his cheeks which was a nice look on him.

"Go ahead." Harry braced himself for what was sure to come.

"It means that technically…" Malfoy trailed off and Harry tried hard to hide the smile that was forming on his face against his will.

"It means, Potter…" Harry couldn't hide his smile anymore. "Oh, bloody hell, Potter, are you going to make me beg for it?" Malfoy snapped and Harry laughed. "Of course you would," Draco muttered. "Fine. Would you sponsor me?"

Harry looked at Draco for a moment and saw the expectation mingled with doubt in his eyes. How badly Draco wanted this. How badly he longed for acceptance. Acceptance from his father, from this little club and from the wizarding society as a whole. Draco needed the reassurance, needed to know he was important, that he _mattered_.

"Yes," Harry just said.

The smile on Draco's lips at this simple word, the way his eyes brightened up at once shouldn't have made Harry's stomach flutter so crazily but it did.

No matter what it took, it was worth it.

* * *

And that's how Harry found himself dragged to the prestigious Gentlewizard Club on a Saturday morning.

Malfoy had pounded on his front door for Merlin knows how long before Harry finally got out of his bed and went to open it to him, apologising profusely to his elderly Muggle neighbour who glared daggers at him before slamming his door into Harry's face.

The club was situated in a posh neighbourhood in the very heart of London. Draco had spent over an hour trying to dress Harry for the occasion, shaking his head in disbelief at Harry's apparent lack of a proper wardrobe. In the end, Draco had gone back to his own flat to retrieve a pair of light-grey trousers and a dark-green cashmere jumper that apparently matched Harry's eyes. Draco was, as always, dressed impeccably. Harry tried not to think too much about what it felt to wear Draco's clothes and focused on the elegant building instead.

As soon as they entered the Victorian edifice though, Harry's breath caught in his throat. It was simply magnificent. The front door opened on a grand foyer with a ceiling so high it made Harry's head spin. A spectacular chandelier with thousands of candles surmounted round domes with clerestory windows floating overtop a set of luxurious curved staircases leading to the first floor.

"Sweet Merlin," Harry murmured.

"Mr Potter, I am so very honoured to meet you at last," a distinguished, tall wizard in formal robes greeted them with a smile.

"Mr Langdon," Harry returned his smile and shook the wizard's hand.

Langdon's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as they roamed over Draco.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco said holding out his hand, looking duly impressed, like Harry had rarely seen him before.

"I see," Langdon replied in a slightly colder tone, although still harbouring a smile. "Please let me show you to my office."

They followed him through a door on the right-hand side of the foyer and after crossing a couple of beautiful reception rooms, found themselves in a smaller hall leading to Mr Langdon's study.

It was a comfortable, elegant room. On the left-hand side stood a beautiful mahogany desk with two leather armchairs for the guests. The walls were all covered in shelves from floor to ceiling, holding hundreds of books. The wall opposite the desk held a beautifully ornate fireplace, with more shelves on either side. It was rather cosy.

Langdon invited them to sit on the armchairs and offered them a drink. They both took coffee and soon a couple of steaming cups flew to their hands. Harry took a sip of the coffee and almost moaned. He had never tasted anything so good. From the armchair next to him, Harry could feel Draco's excitement at simply being here and realised what it really meant for him.

"So, Mr Potter," Langdon started after a few trivialities. "I must say I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you the other day. You have been a member for years, but we never had the pleasure of meeting you in person. What brings you here on this beautiful morning?"

Harry turned to look briefly at Draco who already had his eyes on him. He could almost hear Draco plead him, 'Don't screw this up, Potter.'

"Er, well, I- I guess I-" He felt Draco's foot come in contact with his and took a deep breath. "I wanted you to meet Draco, here." Harry thought it was better to cut the crap and jump right in.

Langdon didn't even take a look at Draco and kept his eyes in Harry's.

"I see. What can I do for you, then?"

"I would like to sponsor Draco for membership of the Club."

Langdon's mouth twitched at Harry's words and his lips thinned into a fine line. He sat back in his chair and finally seemed to acknowledge Draco's presence. He shamelessly scrutinised him.

"Well, I'm not sure Mr Malfoy meets all the required criteria," Langdon said in a dry tone, suddenly losing all pretence.

Harry had foolishly thought it would be easy, a simple formality, really, but he now realised it would probably take a little bit more than his name to get Draco in. Draco shifted uncomfortably next to him and Harry knew he had come to the same conclusion.

Harry frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand. I thought as a member, I was allowed to sponsor other people?"

Langdon's fake smile came back in a flash. He turned to Draco. "Mr Malfoy, would you mind waiting just a moment in the next room? There is something I must share with Mr Potter, between members."

 _Bastard,_  Harry couldn't stop thinking. He was very tempted to simply leave the room and send the guy to hell, but he couldn't do that to Draco.

"It won't take long," Langdon added.

"Right. I'll wait for you outside," Draco said pressing a hand on Harry's shoulder on his way out, a gesture that did not escape Langdon.

"Why don't you want Draco in your club?" Harry asked bluntly as soon as Draco had left the room.

Langdon looked intently at Harry. "I never said that. Although I must warn you that your request is very unlikely to find any favourable echo in the club."

"And why is that?" Harry knew the answer, of course he knew it, but he wanted the guy to face his responsibilities and spell it out.

"Well, you see, the Club has a very strict policy on its members'  _record_ ," Langdon replied coldly. "And in your  _friend_ _'_ _s_  case, his family's record doesn't really work in his favour."

There it was. The dragon was out of its lair.

Harry put the empty cup of coffee on the desk before leaning back into the armchair. "The Malfoys have been judged and have done their sentence," Harry said slowly. "They were on house arrest for months and helped capturing many important Death Eaters it would have taken us years to arrest. They made us gain precious time." Simple facts. Harry still didn't like Lucius Malfoy, probably never would, and was absolutely not naive as to what his motives had been, but still. The Malfoys  _did_  help. And they had paid for their misdeeds.

"Of course, but still-"

"So why can't Draco become a member?" Harry cut him in.

"Well, as you already know, he needs to be sponsored by a member of the club."

"Which I am. So what's the problem?"

Langdon's smile was back, but this time his tone was bluntly condescending. "There are other conditions."

Of course there were. "I'm all ears."

"You see, Mr Potter, there has been a time where membership was granted a little bit too easily. The Club suffered from that and new rules had to be enforced to ensure the Club would keep a certain standard."

He paused and Harry braced himself for what was about to come.

"That is why, we now only accept new members sponsored by family and next of kin. That's a rule that simply cannot be overlooked, even by such an important wizard as yourself," Langdon said with a smile of triumph.

Harry wanted nothing but to slap the jerk in the face. Or hex his bollocks off.

"As I believe Mr Malfoy is not part of your family…" Langdon trailed off.

"He's my partner, though," Harry blurted before he could stop himself. All in all, it was not really a lie. Draco indeed was Harry's partner. His Auror partner if nothing more. "You did say 'sponsored by family and next of kin'?" he added swiftly. In for a knut and all that.

Langdon's smile wavered. "I did."

"So that's it, then. Draco can become a member."

Langdon leaned back in his chair and studied Harry carefully. He was not smiling anymore. Harry cheered inwardly.

"It depends."

"On what?" Harry asked.

"On the seriousness of your relationship, for one thing," Langdon said, his vicious smile back on his face.

"It's very serious," Harry said in the most assured tone he could muster.

"Oh yes? And may I ask how long you two have been together?"

"Of course," Harry answered without hesitation. "Draco's been my partner for three years."

"Really?" Langdon narrowed his eyes. "And how come I have never heard about this relationship of yours? Considering how famous you are, Mr Potter."

"It's because we like to keep things private, Mr Langdon. And I'm sure this is a quality the Gentlewizard Club is interested in."

"I see," Langdon only replied, keeping his gaze firmly on Harry.

After a long time, during which Harry was sure Langdon was trying desperately to find something, anything that could prevent Draco from joining the club, he finally spoke again.

"Very well, then. I shall launch the procedure for his application immediately," the honeyed smile was back on Langdon's face. "Once it's done, it will only take a couple more steps for Mr Malfoy to officially become a part of the Club."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you will first receive the visit of the Club committee to your house on Monday, and will be interviewed together there."

Harry frowned.

"You would be very surprised, Mr Potter, at how often we are confronted with people  _faking_  their relationship, just to be able to join the Club. You must understand that we can't possibly have that, hence the checking." He smiled again. "Honesty is very important to the members of the Club."

"Right, of course, it makes sense," Harry replied with a forced smile. "So, Monday, you said? This Monday?"

"Yes, Mr Potter, this Monday. In a couple of days. Is there a problem?"

"Er, nope. That's fine."

Perfectly fine. Draco and he had two days to get to know each other as if they were lovers.

Great.

"And then you will both be invited for the weekend at our countryside residence in Yorkshire, where you will meet other members of the club and will be chaperoned by a couple of members of the committee who will evaluate Mr Malfoy's abilities to blend in with our people. We will owl you the details in the afternoon."

"Okay. So that means that when Draco passes-"

" _If_  Mr Malfoy passes," Langdon smiled again and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"He will then become a member of the Club."

"That's perfectly summed up, Mr Potter. Do you have any other questions?"

"No, I think I'm fine."

"Well then I guess you just have to go and tell Mr Malfoy the news," Langdon said standing up.

Harry stood up as well.

Great. All he had to do now was to announce Draco they were a couple.


	2. Chapter 2

"You did  _what?_ " Draco asked in disbelief as soon as they had Apparated back to Harry's flat.

Harry sank into his couch and hid his face in his hands.

"You told them we were a  _couple?"_  Draco asked again.

Harry nodded sheepishly, still refusing to remove his hands.

"Bloody hell, Potter, but that's brilliant! You're a fucking genius!"

Harry removed his hands incredibly fast and looked at Draco who was sporting an air of utter fondness.

"Wh-What?"

"Are you sure you were sorted right, Potter? This is so Slytherin of you." Draco had a hard time hiding his enthusiasm.

"Well actually, I  _was_ nearly sorted in Slytherin," Harry shrugged.

Draco came closer and sat on Harry's coffee table, his leg instantly reaching for Harry's. "You're joking, right?"

"No, it's true. The Sorting Hat said I could achieve great things in Slytherin."

"No it did not."

"It did."

Draco folded his arms. "How come you ended up in Gryffindor, then?"

"Because I begged the Hat not to put me in Slytherin," Harry hesitated. "Because of you."

Draco's face was unreadable for a couple of seconds before a huge smile formed on his face again. "Ha! You were afraid I would put you in the shade, that's it! Afraid you couldn't stand the comparison!"

"Er, sorry to-"

"Enough of that anyway." Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Potter, I am proud of you. That was surprisingly clever of you," he said in the most patronising tone.

"Er, thanks."

"Now, Langdon said there would be an interview of the two of us in our house on Monday, is that so?"

"Yes, but-"

"Meaning in the meantime, we have to get to know each other very well," Draco continued, ignoring Harry completely.

"Draco, I'm not sure-"

"We are going to do this. And we are going to be incredible." Draco was beyond excitement now. His face had lit up and he was talking animatedly. "We are going to blow their mind with our amazing chemistry." He stood up at once and started pacing the room, muttering to himself.

Shit. What was Harry supposed to do? He knew, deep inside, that no matter what Draco did, no matter what he said, he never ever had a single chance to be accepted into the Club. He had only challenged Langdon because the guy had been an obnoxious prick. But now? He started to think it had been a huge mistake.

"We need to practise, of course." Draco paused in the middle of the room, his finger pointed at Harry. "I need to know absolutely everything about your life. Every single pathetic detail. From the colour of your toothbrush to the content of your cupboards."

"Draco…"

"No, no, no, no, no, Potter. You are  _not_  letting me down. You are  _not_  chickening out. We  _are_  going to do this. And we are going to be  _awesome_  at this. We are going to be the  _greatest couple_  of the Wizarding World."

Harry swallowed hard at that last statement and focused his attention elsewhere.

"What about your father? What if he hears about it? Wouldn't it alter his plans for your wedding?"

"Nah, it doesn't matter, Potter. Father knows people don't get together out of love, just out of interest. I'm sure he'll be terribly proud of me for coming up with such a brilliant plan," Draco smiled, a big smile that was all teeth and almost reached his eyes.

"But what about your future… wife?" Harry tried again. "Won't her family call the wedding off if the news spreads out?"

"Oh, Potter, you're such a Muggle sometimes," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. If one thing, this union will increase my value on the market. The Greengrasses will be able to sell the fact that they managed to marry their daughter to the man who dated Harry Potter. Which in turn, will cast a great glow on their reputation. It's a win-win situation, really."

In times like these, Harry realised how much he had missed out being raised by Muggles. Some things felt just different at best, alien at worse. But it didn't matter right now.

"Okay, so how are we doing this?"

"It's Saturday, which means we have two whole days before the members of the committee show up on Monday night. So, I'm moving in here right now," Draco said very seriously and Harry laughed.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "You were joking, right?"

"Not one second, Potter. Give me five minutes to go and grab a couple of things from my flat and we'll start up with our great scheme."

"You can't be-"

"I'm off, Potter. We don't have a moment to spare." Draco Disapparated with a whoosh.

And that's how Draco Malfoy ended up moving in with Harry Potter.

* * *

"Draco Lucius Malfoy was born on a bright gorgeously sunshiny day, on the fifth of June, nineteen eighty, to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black," Draco declaimed as he lay lasciviously on Harry's sofa, his lean body taking up the whole space.

"Er, do you really deem it necessary to go over your whole biography in detail? I mean I'm not sure we really have to go that far."

Draco lifted his head and looked at Harry in indignation. Harry was facing him in the armchair, notepad and quill in hand, ready to learn whatever he was supposed to know to make them look credible as a couple to the members of the committee.

"Of course it's necessary. A good spouse must know everything about the love of his life. Right, where was I? Oh, yes." He took an inspired look and started again. "I had a privileged childhood, surrounded by a loving mother and a father who doted on me. Of course, who could blame them? I was the cutest, brightest child in the whole of southern England."

Harry snorted. "Why not of the whole of England?"

Draco looked affronted and lowered his voice. "Of course, Potter, I was the most gorgeous child of the whole of England, but I can barely say that out loud, that would make me sound obnoxious." He raised his voice again. "Besides, it's better to let the others believe they ever stood a chance."

"Right. Go on."

Draco went on for a while, digressing about every single thing he'd done as a child, portraying himself as the model little angel everyone worshipped. Harry noted every single detail down, from Draco's favourite colour ('navy blue') to the name of the pet Kneazle he received when he was four and lost when he was five ('Fluffy' for Draco, 'Herbert' for everybody else), to the number of albino peacocks the Malfoys had had over the years ('four') and to the name of every single house-elf they possessed ('Dobby, Blinky, Tommy and Potty. Kidding, Potter. There was no Tommy.')

Behind the gloating and boasting Draco couldn't help inflicting on Harry, was some interesting information if - like Harry - one could read between the lines. Draco had had a lonely childhood, often left to his own devices, and finding solace in his friends - Crabbe and Goyle mostly - whom he had known from a very early age.

"I started Hogwarts when I was eleven and was immediately adored by everybody there."

"Er," Harry countered. "Remember me?"

"What?" Draco frowned. "Oh, please, Potter, you're not going to make me believe that all this animosity towards me was nothing but a pathetic attempt to attract my attention? You were so jealous I'd refused to befriend you that you spent the next six years trying to make me notice you in every possible way. It would have been much easier to just acknowledge the fact you had a thing for me back then." He smiled his awkward lopsided smile.

"You're crazy, just plain crazy," Harry replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"But you do like crazy, right?" Draco asked, his voice sounding slightly unsure.

Harry smiled softly but didn't answer.

"Anyway, on with it. Where was I?" Draco started again. "Oh, yes. Well, I had a rather uneventful adolescence-"

"Uneventful?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Draco smiled, looking a bit smug as he rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, if you insist, I might have been a tiny bit of a rebel what with getting a tattoo and all that, but I can assure you, nothing out of the ordinary for a teenager."

Harry stared at him like he wasn't real.

"I've had my share of ups and downs, like everybody else, but all in all, these were pretty cheerful times. I have very fond memories of my home never being empty, what with Father's numerous friends hanging around all the time, it was all very jolly."

" _Jolly._  You would describe the time Voldemort took over the Manor with a whole bunch of Death Eaters as  _jolly._ "

"Yes, well I admit he was a tad eccentric this one. And quite tasteless when it came to his hobbies," Draco paused, a finger pressed onto his chin. "But you must admit he had a way of catching people's attention," he went on in a serious tone.

"Draco, what the hell are you talking about? You can't possibly-"

"Shut up, Potter." And Harry knew instantly the game was over as Draco abruptly sat, a sudden hard look on his face immediately taking Harry back to sixth year. "This is my way of telling the story. If you don't like it, you don't have to listen to it," he said between clenched teeth before standing up and heading for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Harry sat back in his armchair. He knew Draco had this extravagant way of always overdoing things, fuck, Harry was so used to it that the Malfoy he had known before the war almost seemed like another person entirely. But this! This was something else altogether. This was denial. Complete denial. And Harry knew it couldn't be good in the long run. You could only escape your demons for a while.

Draco stayed in the bathroom for a long time. At one point, Harry was afraid he had Disapparated back to his own flat. But no. He could hear the water running from the tap from time to time. Draco finally went out of the bathroom, and settled back on the sofa like nothing had happened.

Harry could have been fooled if it hadn't been for his slightly red-rimmed eyes.

* * *

They went to have lunch at the local cafe and Draco was his usual self again.

Harry couldn't help laughing at Draco's constant babbling, their feet touching under the table. It was distracting, as usual, not to mention outright fun. Harry was having a great time and he felt that Draco was also enjoying himself in his company, which made him all warm inside.

After lunch, they went back to the flat and proceeded to carefully place a few items from Draco's house all over it. Draco went as far as hanging up framed paintings, adding a bit of colour on Harry's usually bare walls.

They were in the middle of an argument about whether or not to change the colour of Harry's sofa when Harry received a Firecall from Ron, a little bit worried at not having heard from his friend in a while. With all that had happened over the last few hours, Harry had completely forgotten about his best friends. He explained to Ron as best as he could that he wasn't available this weekend, that he was busy working with Malfoy and Ron surprisingly just nodded and left after a "See you Monday, then."

After that, Harry and Draco settled back to the sofa and armchair.

"Right, Potter, your turn. I want to know everything about your fascinating childhood with Muggles." The reading glasses were back on Draco's nose as he was the one taking notes now. Harry had never particularly appreciated people with reading glasses before, but as usual, nothing that had to do with Malfoy was rational in his case, including Draco himself.

"Well, there's nothing much to say, really. I was raised by my Aunt Petunia and my Uncle Vernon, living with them in Little Whinging with my cousin Dudley who's our age."

Draco scribbled the information on the notepad.

"Dudley," he murmured, before gazing up at the ceiling. "It must have been brilliant to have someone your age to play with."

"Er, well, we didn't really get on that much."

"Oh," Draco simply said, scrutinising him as if he could read Harry's deepest thoughts. "Tell me more about your life with the Muggles. I'm sure it was destabilising at times, I mean, they were  _Muggles,_ " Draco said dramatically.

"I- well, it was okay if I kept to myself and didn't bother them so much," Harry shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Draco frowned and looked at him, his grey eyes bigger behind the glasses. Somehow, it was odd to be talking to Malfoy of all people about what his childhood had been. He didn't want to go into details; he didn't really know how Malfoy would react to what he had to say. But then, they were supposed to know each other, to have shared parts of their past like lovers did.

"Well," Harry started, choosing his words very carefully, "The truth is they didn't really like having me around that much."

"Was that because of your annoying propensity to be a major slob?" Draco said, delicately retrieving a blue t-shirt Harry had been looking for for days from under the cushion and holding it between his thumb and index finger.

"No, it was more to do with breathing the same air as them," Harry replied dryly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Dumbledore left me on their doorstep the night he- the night Voldemort killed my parents. I grew up not knowing what my name meant, not knowing Magic even existed."

"Not at all? You didn't know anything about us at all?" Draco looked really surprised. Although it was logical that he had never heard of Harry's story in the first place. "Well, that explains a lot," he said with a sly smile.

"No. I didn't know, but my aunt and uncle did. And they resented me for that. They thought - probably still think - that wizards and witches were freaks. Being the son of a witch and a wizard myself, I was a constant reminder of this world they were trying hard to pretend didn't exist. Especially since I was having bursts of uncontrolled magic all the time and it scared them shitless." Harry paused to take a sip of his tea.

"In a word, you were a major pain in their arse," Draco said very seriously.

Harry cleared his throat, focusing on the mug in his hands. He was very surprised at the serious tone in Draco's voice. He knew he could be like this on rare occasions, but this felt really different, almost out of character.

"In a word, yes. I was a huge weight for them so they kept me hidden inside the house most of the time. I-" Harry hesitated.

Should he really share that much information with Draco? Draco who wasn't even a friend, Draco who was only his Auror partner after all, Draco who had a means of using info on people when he needed it. Although Harry had nothing to hide, really; there had already been a handful of unauthorised biographies on the market, so it was not as if he were to reveal a shocking piece of information. But oddly enough, his instincts told him to go for it. Not to hold anything back. Somehow, his instincts told him he could trust Draco.

"Potter?"

"Yeah, sorry. They- they would lock me up in the cupboard under the stairs. That was my room for the first ten years I spent with them."

"Excuse me? You were sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs? Were the prices so insanely high in Little Whinging that they couldn't even afford to get you a decent bedroom?"

"No, they weren't. My cousin Dudley had two bedrooms. I had this tiny space under the stairs up to the moment when Hagrid barged into my life and set things straight when I was eleven. After that, I got my own bedroom upstairs, but I was locked up in it and they would pass my meals through a trapdoor."

"Okay, Potter, that's a very good story to add to the whole poor-little-orphan-boy-abused-by-nasty-relatives. You could get millions with a story like this one, you know?"

"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged.

"I can't believe I had no idea," he said again, his gaze locking with Harry's. "All these years, I thought you had been raised as the Boy Who Lived by people who would do your bidding, and that was why you were this fucking arrogant prick all of the time," he murmured the last bit almost to himself.

"I wasn't-"

"They were bastards," Draco stated seriously. "Your aunt and uncle. And I'm not saying that because they were Muggles, although that doesn't help I guess."

Harry chuckled. "Good to see you back. I thought I had lost my Auror partner under all the concern and pitying."

"Is it true Muggles have all these little funny devices that make all kinds of weird noises?"

Harry smiled at Draco's ability to change subjects quickly when unease showed. He was happy to find a way to avoid more serious subjects from his upbringing.

"Oh yes."

They went on chatting animatedly all afternoon, talking about bits of trivia from their lives, carefully avoiding the most important subjects to focus on nice, non-problematic ones. They went for a walk in the park near the house at the end of the afternoon, Draco being Draco once again, talking loudly and making grand gestures that had half the population of the park frown at him or turn on him, although he never really seemed to realise the mayhem he created.

They ordered Chinese takeaway for dinner and spent the rest of the evening chatting happily together in Harry's living room, talking about anything and everything, in a very cosy way.

It was the best time Harry had had in God knows how long. It was nice to have someone over at his flat, particularly Draco who despite all his awkwardness, was really fun to be around.

When they started to yawn more than reasonable, they decided to call it a night.

"Right, time to go to bed," Harry said, Summoning a set of sheets and blankets from the nearest cupboard. "You're gonna be all right on the sofa?"

"Why, you're not welcoming me in your bed tonight,  _darling?"_  Draco said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

Harry froze in place and felt at a loss for words. He stood with his mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, before Draco rolled his eyes.

"Relax, Potter, I'm just kidding."

Harry slowly regained his composure. "Right, er, do you need anything else, then?"

"No, I just need to use the bathroom."

"Fine. I'll go after you."

Harry's breath caught in his throat when Draco got out of the bathroom in his pyjamas - silk pyjama bottoms and a tight grey t-shirt.

Draco sank onto the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself in the process.

"Are you going to be okay in here?"

"Of course, Potter. Have a good night."

"Right, if you need anything…"

"Don't worry, I'll ask you."

"Great. Good night."

"Night," and Draco turned to face the back of the sofa while Harry hurried to the bathroom.

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep. He was lying on his back, his hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling.

Knowing that Draco was just a door away from him, sleeping on his sofa in his pyjamas did unspeakable things to Harry's body. He tried to think about something else, anything else, really, but it was a losing battle.

He closed his eyes and slowly let his hand roam down and crawl under the elastic band of his underpants. He gasped when he felt his fingers encircle his already painfully hard shaft and started stroking slowly. Bloody hell! Just knowing that Draco was there, right behind the door, a mere few feet away seemed to arouse Harry in more ways than he had imagined. He tried to picture Draco as he had left him - clad in his silky pyjama bottoms that complimented his gorgeous round arse and this incredibly tight t-shirt that left little to the imagination. Harry bit his bottom lip and started stroking himself faster. He knew he wouldn't be long.

A knock on his door followed by a terrifying click made him sit up abruptly in his bed and swiftly remove his hand from his underpants. In the semi-darkness, he managed to make out Draco's head by the door.

"Potter," he whispered. "I forgot to ask you. What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

"Do you really think it's important for them to know about that?" Harry replied, very annoyed, breath short, still painfully hard.

"Of course. You never know. So, what's your side?"

"I sleep on the left side of the bed."

"Oh, good, I sleep on the right, that's perfect."

"Right, go to bed now."

"Throwing me away out of your room suspiciously quickly, Potter. Why, did I interrupt you in the middle of a heated wanking session?"

"I- I-"

"See, that's why we really need to find you a boyfriend. You can't wank yourself into oblivion like that, that sure isn't very healthy."

"Good night, Malfoy,"

"Right, I'll leave you and your right hand alone. G'night, Potter." And with that, Draco closed the door and Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was even harder than before Draco had interrupted him. He frantically plunged his hand into his pants once again and resumed his stroking, his left hand tugging at his balls. Shit, he was close. He froze again when he heard Draco's voice from the other side of the door.

"You could've at least waited for me to settle back on the couch. Really, Potter, you have no decency."

It was all too much for Harry; hearing Draco's voice like that, right at this moment as he was so close already triggered something that sent him over the edge and he came hard on his stomach. He came and came and came, spurts of semen coating his chest and hitting his chin, as he tried his best to muffle his whimpers. Bloody hell! He had not come as hard in a fucking long time.

As soon as his orgasm subsided though, embarrassment washed over him as he listened hard to see if he could hear footsteps behind the door. Merlin, how embarrassing would that be if Draco had lingered there and heard him come?

He cast a quick  _Scourgify_  on himself and tried to forget all about it as much as he could. It was late when sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

"You look like shit," Malfoy said flatly as Harry entered his living-room the next morning. He was sitting on the sofa, blankets and sheets neatly folded at one end, glasses on his nose and quill in hand, a piece of parchment and the Daily Prophet spread on the coffee table in front of him.

"Good morning to you too," Harry replied with a yawn. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the perfect boyfriend for you," Draco stated without looking up.

"What? Oh, Draco you-"

"No need to thank me, Potter. It's my pleasure. I've selected the best candidates in these ads for you. You'll meet the first one on Wednesday. You don't mind a little kink on the side, do you?" Draco asked, looking at Harry over his glasses.

"What? Are you crazy?"

Draco put his index finger on his chin and looked at the ceiling. "Well, there  _is_  a track record of something like that running in the family, apparently having to do with the inbreeding but-"

"I don't want a boyfriend," Harry said blandly, sinking into the sofa next to Draco and nevertheless peeking at the ads Draco had circled on the Daily Prophet. He frowned.  _"Forty-two year old sex God with a passion for covering lovers in peanut butter and an unfortunate over-sweating problem seeking simple-minded man with low expectations. Pathetic love life is a must."_ Harry looked at Draco in disbelief. "Really, Malfoy?"

"I'm sure he's a very attentive lover," Draco stated very seriously.

"I told you I don't want a boyfriend."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you do. You and your little friends can't stand being alone. You're craving company."

"And what about you? Why is it always all about me and never about you? Do you even date people?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

Draco narrowed his eyes and bit his bottom lip before standing up. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Wait!" Harry said, standing up as well and grabbing Draco's arm, stopping him from walking away. "Why do you always shut down whenever we brush the subject?"

"Leave it, Potter," Draco said menacingly.

"No. I won't drop it until you've told me why you never talk to me about the people you date."

"Potter…" Draco growled.

"I mean you're young, you're handsome, you're fun and smart and-"

"And a fucking Death Eater, Potter. Don't you fucking get it?" Draco barked, his face flushed. "Are you really that thick or is it only for my entertainment? Death Eaters don't fucking date. See how you can't take a fucking step out in the Wizarding world because of your famous scar? Well, that's the same for me, except it's because of this fucking mistake I did when I was so fucking young and stupid."

Draco was yelling now, and ripped his left sleeve up, displaying his Dark Mark and pointing at it.  _"This_  is the fucking reason nobody ever considers getting anywhere near me, let alone date me.  _This_  is about the only thing people see in me. So you get all blasé with all your love letters? Well, do you know how many death threats I've received in the past years? Do you know how many of these letters explained in very minute details what exactly they would do to me and my family if they ever got their hands on any of us? Do you know why Father is working his arse off to find me someone decent to marry? Because nobody,  _nobody_  in their right mind would ever want to be with anyone like me."

Harry slowly looked up into Draco's eyes. "I would," he said quietly.

Draco stared fixedly at him for a moment, panting hard, a confused look on his face.

"That's not fucking funny, Potter," he seethed between clenched teeth. He took a last hard look at Harry before storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

A whole hour passed during which Harry had time to prepare a full English breakfast and do a little bit of tidying up, trying hard not to think about what had happened earlier on. Their first real fight. The first time Harry had seen Draco so serious about something. And that had ended up pretty badly.

When Draco finally left the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Harry was sitting on the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet and trying to focus his attention on the inane articles.

Draco didn't say a word, and instead went to the kitchen, retrieving the saucepans and serving them both.

Harry remained on the couch, wondering what would be the best step to take next.

Finally, Draco sat down at the table and looked at Harry, his face unreadable.

"Malfoys don't apologise," Draco started. "But if they did, right now, I probably would."

Harry tried to keep a neutral face, but it was hard to prevent a smile from forming on his lips.

"Thank you for, you know, not apologising, I really appreciate it. " Harry said and joined Draco at the table. "And for the record… I'm sorry I pushed you."

Draco didn't reply. He just nodded very seriously before attacking his breakfast.

It took the whole of the meal for them to let go of the awkwardness and settle back into their easy relationship.

After that, they studied some more, trying to memorise more of each other's trivia: weight and height, boxers or briefs or what they wanted to be when they grew up - "Master of the Universe," for Draco, "Policeman," for Harry who had to explain the subtle differences between an Auror and its Muggle counterpart.

Harry was appalled to realise he already knew most of the things Draco was telling him. He had not realised how much of a stalker he had been to Draco. But then, he thought, that was nothing new.

In the evening, Harry took Draco to the cinema. Draco had never been to the cinema before, and it had been quite an experience, as Harry had thought it would.

Draco was fascinated by the screen and the film they were watching. He kept jumping in his seat, commenting loudly on everything, yelling up at the actors on the screen while the closest Muggles angrily kept changing seats until there was absolutely nobody left around them. Draco didn't seem to notice any of it.

On their way back to Harry's flat, they walked very close to each other, Harry's hand firmly planted in his pockets, while Draco's arm was brushing him, always a comforting presence.

They chatted a little bit more on the couch before going to bed.

It had been the perfect weekend, apart from the couple of tense moments. And even so. It was the first time in years - if not ever - that Harry had had such an amazing time with someone.

He realised he wanted exactly this: to be in a relationship and share bits of his everyday life with someone, like he had with Draco.

Too bad it had only been for the sake of a fucking membership.

* * *

The Committee members arrived at six thirty sharp.

Draco and Harry had gone straight to Harry's flat after their day at the Ministry, having just had the time to change into more comfortable outfits.

Harry went to greet the two men - one of them as small and oddly bushy-haired as the other was tall and bald - while Draco was quietly reading the Daily Prophet on the sofa.

Harry was nervous. Blurting out that they were a couple was one thing, getting to know each other better another one, but pretending being together in front of people who would scrutinise their each and every gesture was completely different.

"Draco, this is Mr Loras and Mr Meehan."

"Very pleased to meet you," Draco politely replied with a smile that was not reciprocated, inviting the two men to sit in the armchairs before he resumed his position on the couch. Harry went to sit next to him, avoiding the two men's gaze like the plague as Draco's leg was instantly touching his. Harry could feel his hands trembling a little on his lap. Bloody hell! One would think that after defeating the greatest Dark wizard of all times one would feel confident in front of a couple of Gentlewizards, but that was very different of course. Killing Voldemort was a necessity, an act of survival. This was for Draco.

Harry started when he felt Draco's warm hand take his and rest on his lap, because that was what couples did of course. The two men in front of him had taken out parchments and quills and were scribbling something Harry couldn't decipher from that distance.

There was a very palpable tension in the room, and that's when Harry realised this was no simple test; the two men were not only here to check on the reality of their couple, but they were probably here to find absolutely every reason not to accept Draco into the club, and they would probably do so without a second thought.

"Like Mr Langdon has probably told you," the short, bushy-haired one - Meehan, Harry thought - started sternly, "We're here to check your earlier declarations that you are indeed a couple, since the Club no longer accepts sponsoring outside the family, be it blood-related or not."

Still no smile on either faces. These two men were as cold as stone.

"Of course," Draco said. "That is perfectly understandable."

Harry couldn't help thinking it was not, but then, it wasn't his place to say anything.

"Let's start, then. How did the two of you meet?"

That was an easy one.

"We met at Madam Malkin's on Diagon Alley when we were eleven," Draco said immediately.

"On my eleventh birthday," Harry added and Draco turned to him and gave him a soft smile.

"We were babies back then," Draco said without leaving Harry's eyes, still gently caressing Harry's hand, as if they were alone in the world.

"Yeah…" Harry replied, completely enthralled, finding himself unable to divert his gaze from Draco's.

Meehan - or was it Loras? - cleared his throat and Draco and Harry both jumped and turned back to them.

"So, was it love at first sight then?"

"Oh God, no. It was rather hate at first sight," Harry joked, remembering how terrible an impression Draco had made on him back then.

"Really?" Draco turned to him again, searching his eyes. Harry was surprised at how subdued Draco was, almost shy. "I remember being pretty taken with you from the very beginning," he murmured and Harry shivered. Bloody hell, Draco was very good at this pretend relationship thing.

"Well, you can't deny we've had our share of fights over the years, you and I," Harry tried to keep the conversation on track.

"We had our little differences, that's true, although no more than any other couples," Draco said again, applying a slight pressure on Harry's hand in the process.

Harry wasn't sure every couple had had half their history; Draco had, among many other things, crushed his nose while Harry had nearly killed him by slicing him up in two after all.

"Right. You were on different sides of the war," Loras asked. "How do you go from being enemies to becoming lovers?"

Another easy question. After all, friendship was no different than love in that case.

"Well, at one point you have to realise it's better to put the past behind and move on," Harry replied. "And it's much easier to do so when you get to know the person, like it was our case once we started working together."

"But still, Mr Potter, with all due respect, your partner was on You-Know-Who's side during the war. His father welcomed him into his home. Mr Malfoy went as far as taking the Mark and becoming a Death Eater himself."

Harry instantly felt his blood boil in his veins as Draco tensed significantly next to him.

"His name was Voldemort," Harry snapped. "And yes, Draco was a Death Eater. He made some big mistakes when he was young, but should he really be condemned forever for them? Don't you believe in redemption? He's done his sentence, and has joined the Aurors to help bringing peace in the Wizarding world. What is  _your_  contribution to this noble task?"

"Harry…" Draco whispered next to him, sending an apologetic smile to the two men who glared at Harry.

"I see," Loras simply said, taking frantic notes on his parchment.

"It's a very good question, sir," Draco said, and Harry hated the desperate tone of his voice. "Like Harry said, I made a lot of mistakes when I was young, even if being young is no excuse. But I'm trying my best to make up for them now, and become a better man. Harry is an inspiration in that regard. His faith in me helps me tremendously on a day-to-day basis and I probably wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for him. He has this effect on people."

"You know that's not true," Harry replied. "You're doing this all by yourself and would have done so even if I hadn't been around."

"See?" Draco said in disbelief, never leaving Harry's eyes. "That's what's incredible about him: no matter what he does - and boy has he done more than anyone ever would in the course of a lifetime - he has absolutely no idea how much he is worth and how much he brings to those who are lucky enough to gravitate around him. In his head, he is still the little boy in the cupboard under the stairs nobody wanted."

The last part stung more than it should have, and Harry was a bit miffed that Draco went as far as bringing this part of his childhood up. But the rest made him blush so much he could feel the heat burn on his cheeks. Bloody hell! Where did Draco find all these things to say? Harry knew Draco had a keen sense of drama, but he had never suspected he would be such a good actor. He didn't know what to think, to be perfectly honest.

"Right, I think we've seen enough," Meehan said, vanishing his quill and parchment with a flick of his wand and standing up, quickly followed by Loras. "The Club will owl you the details for the upcoming weekend."

"Wait," Harry said. "That's it? Are you not even going to tell us how we did?"

Loras took a good look at him, shamelessly detailing him from head to toe before answering. "You were both pretty convincing, I must admit. But we've caught tougher ones at this game so I wouldn't raise my expectations too much if I were you."

Bastard.

"Of course," Draco said standing up, removing his hand from Harry's and leaving it cold and empty at once. "You're only doing what is best for the Club."

"Indeed we are. Have a good evening, gentlemen." And the two men left without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

 

"So, that went well," Draco said, beaming at Harry once they were alone in the flat. "I was good, wasn't I? The perfect Gentlewizard: funny, interesting, devastatingly handsome," Draco sighed dreamily. "They won't have a choice but to let me in after that. I mean, come on, we were brilliant."

"Well," Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"We were, believe me," Draco replied. "And you, Mr Killjoy, will be blinded by my utmost talent once I finally become a Gentlewizard."

"Right, until then, we still have the weekend to go through."

Draco made a dismissing gesture. "A simple formality. It will be a piece of Cauldron Cake."

"Yeah, whatever."

Sometimes Harry wondered how Draco always managed to always look on the bright side of life. For one thing, Harry had learned over the last few days that it wasn't always the case, that Draco, somehow, had his dark moments too, like everybody else. But still. Harry couldn't help thinking that the more Draco convinced himself he would be accepted by the Club, the harder the fall. And Harry hoped that when that happened -  _if_  that happened, Harry chided himself - Draco would be able to bounce back and set his mind to something else.

The rest of the week passed in a blur; Harry had thought at first that Draco would go back to live in his own flat but no. He'd told Harry in a rather patronising tone that it was much better for the credibility of their relationship to be together as much as possible until the weekend. Harry also suspected Draco rather enjoyed the fact he didn't have to cook at night, or that Harry's flat was really close to the Ministry, meaning he could laze about a little bit longer in bed in the morning.

Harry, of course, didn't mind one second. He tried to take things cautiously though, forcing himself not to get too used to Draco's presence too much because he knew the situation was temporary.

At night, things were different. At night, in the quiet of his room, with Draco just on the other side of the door, Harry's body was harder to subdue. It was always the same thing: Harry would feel the need to touch himself, but refused to do so. He would try to fall asleep, failing miserably as pictures of Draco kept invading his mind. Or he would recall something funny Draco had said during the day. Or else he would remind himself to check the recipe for the Butterbeer Cupcakes Draco had mentioned over lunch. And then, Harry would rationalise things by thinking that it was only because he spent his days - and now his nights - with Draco. But then, he had spent his days and nights with Ron and Hermione at one point and had never ever felt the need to touch himself thinking about either of them back then. Ew, just… ew. And it was not only due to the fact that all sexual activity had been tampered by the legitimate fear of being caught by Snatchers or Death Eaters on the loose, no. It was just… Neither Ron nor Hermione were Draco.

So after long minutes spent agonising on whether he should indulge in a little one on one with his right hand or not - and fuck, he  _really_  shouldn't - he always ended up relenting and wanking himself raw.

Every single night.

On Tuesday night though, his agonising predicament got up to another level when right after coming hard all over himself - just in that short moment when his brain was still fuzzy from his orgasm - he had distinctly heard a moan coming from the living-room. Yes,  _that kind_  of moan. No mistake about it. Harry had closed his eyes and been particularly thankful he had just come copiously because otherwise he would probably have had to change his whole set of sheets.

On Wednesday night, thankfully - and despite what Draco had told Harry - there was no date waiting for him anywhere. However, as they were quietly reading on the couch, the easily recognisable eagle owl from Malfoy manor had brought yet another letter to Draco from his father. Draco had opened and read it without a word, his impassive mask firmly in place before folding it and discarding it in the back pocket of his trousers. They did not speak about it, but the tiny ray of light filtering through the slit under Harry's bedroom door remained for a long time that night.

And there had been no other moans coming from the living room the following nights either.

On Thursday night, they received the Portkey that would take them to the Gentlewizard Club's countryside residence in Yorkshire the next Saturday, along with a few guidelines and the dress code for the formal Saturday night dinner. Harry was a bit apprehensive when he saw the impressive list of do's and don'ts (no jeans, no trainers of course, appropriate language and so on), but Draco reassured him by telling him they were pretty standard instructions in high-ranked circles. Of course, Draco was infinitely more comfortable with such etiquette than Harry, having been fed with formal codes and appropriate behaviour in society during his childhood. He helped Harry pack his suitcase and jumped at the opportunity to inspect Harry's wardrobe before discarding almost every single item, involving a lot of head shaking and mumbling. After yet another case of rolling eyes and exasperated sighs, Draco had ended up dragging Harry all the way to Twilfitt and Tattings on Diagon Alley. It had been a long evening, but in the end, even if Harry didn't care much about what he usually wore, he was glad to see that their outing had seemed to lift Draco's mood a little.

On Friday night, Harry met Ron at the pub, while Draco stayed behind, officially claiming he did not want to have to bear the sight of a Weasley all night long, even over beers. Harry wasn't fooled. However, he did not insist and left Draco alone at the flat, willing to give him space. Harry had a great time with Ron but carefully avoided mentioning what was going on with Draco: he had not come to the pub to hear endless rants about how he shouldn't let himself be dragged into anything involving Draco Malfoy; Harry had enough with his own conscience after all. He warned Ron he would be away for the weekend though, and did not contradict his friend when he asked if it was Auror related. In a remote place of his brain, Harry could still convince himself he needed to take a closer look at the Club's activities just in case there was something illegal about it.

And then, before he knew it, it was Saturday morning.

* * *

The Portkey took them to an immense iron gate guarded by two statues representing hydras.

Draco turned to Harry, an undecipherable look on his face. "You ready?"

Harry took a deep breath. This was going to be a long weekend. "Yes," he exhaled.

Draco smiled at him and reached for his hand. Of course. Harry gave Draco's hand a slight squeeze as they waited by the gate.

Soon enough, a man - a Gentlewizard, Harry chided himself - welcomed them. He took them through the gate to an impressive Victorian country house that was sitting among a beautiful landscaped garden. The stately home was in the shape of a square, with a small tower on each corner, and a bigger Italianate one in the middle. Beautiful, really. But also a little bit intimidating.

The Gentlewizard - his name was Blackstone - led them inside the magnificent house which opened on a hall with a beautiful oak staircase leading to private guest rooms. Blackstone took them straight to their room, situated at the very end of a corridor on the east wing.

Blackstone opened the door for them and let Harry and Draco step inside. It was a beautiful room, painted in a light blue. On the right stood an imposing ornate marble fireplace, surmounted by a gilded mirror. Facing the door were the windows with heavy curtains and a breath-taking view on the park. On the opposite wall was the four-poster bed. The bed. The bed Harry and Draco would share tonight. Harry tried to focus his attention on something else.

It was gorgeous, really. The classic furniture was perfectly in accord with the style of the stately home.

"Right, gentlemen, I'll give you a few minutes to settle down into your rooms and after that, we'll come and get you to give you a grand tour of the property."

As soon as the door was closed, Draco turned to Harry and beamed at him. "Isn't it just perfect, darling?" he said with a wink.

Harry looked around again. "It's not bad."

"Not bad?" Draco replied, looking hurt. "Potter, this is absolutely magnificent, you ignorant sod. Of course, you wouldn't know, what with living in a cupboard and all that."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you done with this already? I never should have told you anything about it."

"Well, now it's too late. Oh, look! We have a bathtub!" And Draco literally bounced to the beautiful bathroom situated on the left-hand side of the bedroom.

It was indeed a rather impressive bathroom, with refined tiling all around and a gilded clawfoot tub. Draco jumped right into the bathtub, leaning into it, letting his feet rest on the rimmed edge of the tub.

"I'll need a back rub tonight, darling," Draco said in a soft voice, a smile on his face.

"Sure, would you like a foot massage as well,  _darling_?" Harry replied with a similar smile.

"Since you're offering…"

"Bugger off, Malfoy, you can go and find someone else to rub your back," Harry chuckled.

Draco put on his most offended look. "Not a very considerate lover, my darling Harry," he replied with a smirk. "I wonder what the Gentlewizards would have to say about that."

"Well, I suppose we'll know soon enough."

They just had the time to unpack quickly before there was a knock on the door and Blackstone took them back to the grand hall downstairs, where Langdon, Loras and Meehan were waiting for them.

The welcome was not as cold as Harry had expected, and the walk through the beautiful grounds of the castle was rather pleasant. Draco was his usual bouncy self, wanting to know absolutely each and every detail, from the exact number of bushes to the name of the gardeners, to the history of the castle. Harry remained quiet, on his guard, observing the three men as they exchanged knowing glances between themselves, raising eyebrows at Draco and even hiding a smirk behind his back from time to time.

_Bastards._

After a quick lunch in the gardens, Harry and Draco went back to their room to change clothes. They were expected to play a game of Skintitch.

* * *

Skintitch, Harry soon found out, was a variation of Muggle Polo. With a hint of Magic of course.

It took place on a huge field at the far end of the estate but like Quidditch, the game happened in the sky. Harry could see the two nets situated at each end of the pitch, about forty feet high.

Instead of horses, Skintitch used Thestrals, which allowed for an even faster game and some interesting combinations in the air that weren't possible in Muggle Polo. Harry had been a bit surprised at first, since Thestrals were pretty rare animals in the Wizarding world, and didn't have the best reputation.

There were other small differences as well. Instead of a wooden ball like in regular Muggle Polo, Skintitch used a single brown leather one that was slightly bigger than a Snitch. This leather ball was called a Minslet, and raced around the players in circles in the air so fast that it was very hard to catch it. You had to place yourself very strategically, because once you'd caught the Minslet with your mallet, you couldn't change its trajectory. You only had less than a second to hit it hard in order to send it over to a net situated on either end of the field. Like in Muggle Polo, players were not allowed to cross the line of the ball. But unlike Muggle Polo, almost every blow was allowed.

Draco and Harry were placed in two different teams. At first, Harry had found it weird, but then, at least it was familiar territory. As soon as Draco learned that they would be adversaries once again, he had moved away swiftly from Harry and kept looking at him, sometimes narrowing his eyes, other times raising an eyebrow in defiance, not listening for one second to what the coach was telling them.

Each team had four players. Draco wore number two and was on the green team while Harry was number one on the blue team. They were both forwards.

They mounted their Thestral and got ready for the game. The Thestrals spread their leathery wings and took off. Harry felt a thrill at the thought of being up in the air again. It had been so long! He cast a glance at Draco who winked at him, a smile on his face. He wasn't the only one happy to be back up here apparently. They slowly circled the pitch in the sky, just to get used to their mount, and once again, Harry felt content to be here. He could feel the wind blowing in his hair, and the feeling of flying - which surpassed almost everything in Harry's mind - was exhilarating. Harry hadn't felt so relaxed in a long time.

It started slowly, maybe to give Harry and Draco time to get used to it. But soon enough, things accelerated. The game was pretty quick, and Harry really enjoyed the thrill it gave him that compared to Quidditch in a way, even if Harry had to admit he enjoyed being on broom more than on a Thestral, which were much slower.

And then, things went up a notch and it all became personal. Like in Quidditch all these years ago, the game was soon all about Draco and Harry. Neither of them wanted to concede an inch to the other, and they were ruthless in their quest for the Minslet. They kept flying after the other, trying to beat the other to it, barely aware of the other players' presence. Like in Quidditch, it was all about them.

And then, things got to a whole new level when Harry's teammates started getting annoyed at the other team. They started playing more roughly and particularly aimed all their blows at Draco, who was their favourite target. They went at him restlessly, and Draco fought back with all his might every single time. But all this energy spent defending himself only allowed Harry and his team to go for the Minslet.

Draco's face was determined, despite the blood drying from a gash on his forehead. He wasn't about to give up, not just yet and rushed towards Harry with an odd glint in his eyes, completely ignoring the other players once more.

 _You and me,_  Harry thought as he kicked his Thestral once again and went towards Draco with a sly smile.

And that's how it went for the rest of the game. No more teams. No more other players. Just Harry and Draco again, fighting to overcome the other and assess domination high up in the air.

They fought hard, completely oblivious to the others, taking huge risks as they pushed their Thestrals further and further, using all they could to win. Because it was all about that now, like it had always been. And as they were fighting in the air, the wind screaming in their ears and wild in their hair, Harry felt alive, more alive than he had been in a very long time.

And when Draco's team won, Harry knew he wouldn't hear the end of it, but for the very first time in his life, he didn't mind one second.

* * *

Harry had been right. Draco hadn't stopped bragging loud and clear all the way down from the pitch. And Harry knew he wouldn't stop any time soon.

They arrived in their room exhausted, but still on a certain high from the exertion. God, Harry had forgotten how thrilling practising a sport was. The adrenalin, the speed, the sensations… it was brilliant. But the best part of course, had been the competition with Draco. It had been a long time since Harry had had so much fun.

As soon as Harry had opened the door to their bedroom, Draco had literally run to the bathroom, jumping on the bed while cackling a very loud, 'Last one to the bathroom is a pathetic loser!' and Harry couldn't help smiling when Draco added, 'Oh, wait, you already are a loser. Loser, loser, loser, Potter the pathetic loser!'

Harry removed his Skintitch gear slowly, listening to the sound of the bathtub filling up in the bathroom, and to Draco now humming a tune Harry didn't recognise.

Harry still didn't feel completely comfortable with the whole pretend relationship thing, but he had to admit he was having more fun than he would have thought. There had been moments this afternoon when he had completely forgotten this was all a scheme to get Draco to join the club and he had thoroughly enjoyed himself.

"I'm waiting for my back rub, here," Draco called from the bathroom and Harry smiled. "Potter? Back rub, now."

Harry hesitated and held his head through the door of the bathroom. Draco was in a bath full of bubbles, thankfully covering the whole of his body, while lathering his arms with a huge yellow sponge.

"And what do I get if I rub your back?"

Draco lifted his eyebrow. "Why, isn't rubbing my back enough of a reward in itself?"

"Really, Malfoy?"

"Don't 'Malfoy' me, Potter."

Before Harry could retort anything, Draco threw his water-soaked sponge all across the bathroom. It landed square on Harry's shirt in an unpleasant 'whoosh.'

Harry gasped and looked at the sponge slowly falling to the floor before lifting his head again to glare at Draco who looked very proud of himself.

"Oops," Draco said with a smile.

"You are so dead, Malfoy," Harry said, slowly getting closer.

"Funny you would've thought I'd stopped talking…" Draco trailed off with a smirk, as a very strong sensation of déjà-vu invaded Harry.

They were interrupted by a heavy thud on the bedroom window.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You won't be as lucky next time."

Harry left the bathroom to open the window and retrieve the parchment.

He went to sit on the bed, his back to the bathroom door and heard Draco get out of the tub.

He was just taking the letter out of the envelope when he felt the mattress sink behind him as Draco jumped on it, bouncing like a little kid a few times.

"What is it?" Draco asked as he finally sank next to Harry, shoving him ruthlessly to take a closer look at the letter, apparently still wet from his bath and wearing a towel around his waist.

Wearing  _only_  a towel.

Harry thought he might just die on the spot.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Nothing, er…" Harry trailed off.

Harry took a deep breath, focused his attention back to the letter as much as he could and started to read.  _"Dear Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy."_

"There is no logic in this," Draco commented as if talking about the weather.

"Um, what?" Harry muttered before Draco rested his chin on his shoulder, his damp hair brushing Harry's cheek and making his stomach flutter crazily.  _It's no big deal,_  Harry tried to reason desperately.  _Draco's just being friendly the way he does all the time._

Of course he did.  _Just not half-naked and wet,_ Harry's traitorous brain provided unhelpfully.

"It should be  _'Mr Malfoy'_  first." Draco went on, completely oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil as he pointed to the letter. "Alphabetical order, Potter. Ever heard of it? Not to mention the obvious fact that the most important person should always come first, no matter what."

"Er," was Harry's answer. "Right."

 _"The Gentlewizard Club cordially invites you to a…"_  Harry's voice faltered as Draco wrapped his arm around his waist. _"To a Formal Dinner-Dance. You are…"_ Harry cleared his throat as Draco absentmindedly caressed Harry's side with his cold fingers.  _"You are required to join us in the Great Hall at 6.30."_

"Brilliant. Let's get dressed then," Draco said.

He removed his arm from Harry's waist and walked to the bathroom, leaving Harry feeling suddenly cold and empty.

* * *

Dinner was taking place in the reception room, and somehow it reminded Harry of a wedding.

The room was magnificent, with its grand chandeliers bringing soft light to the gilded portraits of dukes and duchesses who had inhabited the place during various times in history. There were round tables at one end of the room, while the second half had been turned into a ballroom.

They entered the reception room together, Draco's hand in the small of Harry's back.

Harry had great difficulty taking his eyes off him, to be honest. Draco was absolutely stunning in his formal attire. He was wearing black trousers with a high waist laced at the front that complimented his lean figure, and a perfectly pressed white shirt under long, deep purple elegant open robes held together at the front of Draco's neck by an ancient Malfoy badge.

Harry wore the formal robes they had bought together at Twilfitt and Tattlings the other day, as well as an old plain black suit, waistcoat and coincidentally deep purple tie that matched Draco's robes - suit Harry had purchased for his very first Ministry ball and that he wore at every single Ministry event since then.

The dinner itself was rather pleasant, much more than Harry would have thought. They sat with Langdon, Loras and Meehan, as well as three other Gentlewizards they had not met yet but who - thank Merlin - weren't as incisive as the others towards Draco.

Every single discussion revolved around Harry and his fight against Voldemort. Harry tried his best to avoid the subject but every time he did, Draco intervened loudly, bragging shamelessly and rewriting history the way he had done at Harry's flat. Harry couldn't help laughing at Draco's whimsical assertions contrasting with the very serious way he uttered them. Harry revelled in the look on the Gentlewizards' faces because honestly, it was priceless. Langdon looked like he was about to eat his napkin any moment as Draco explained in great detail how Harry's final victory was only due to his strong, powerful, unswerving wand.

When the music started at the end of the meal, Draco winked at Harry and grabbed his hand.

"Would you dance with me, darling?" he smiled at Harry.

Harry hated dancing with a passion - and Draco knew it - but he just couldn't refuse when Draco was looking at him so hopeful and content.

"Right. But you do remember I can't dance," Harry warned him as Draco led him at the centre of the dance floor, right into the spotlight, where everybody could see them.

Draco took Harry's left hand and placed it on his own shoulder, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "Good thing one of us knows what they're doing then," he murmured as he took Harry's other hand and wrapped his own arm around Harry's waist, bringing them flush together. Harry forgot how to breathe properly for a moment.

They started moving together and it was absolutely wonderful. Harry's whole being was focused on Draco who was guiding them to the sound of the music, as they glided smoothly over the ballroom floor, giving the impression they were both skilled dancers. Harry had had several opportunities to admire Draco as he waltzed with witches at various Ministry events, but it was the first time they ever danced together. Draco's face looked incredibly alive and so fucking beautiful up close.

Harry was so entranced now, on such a high from Draco's proximity that it took him a moment to realise the music had stopped and everybody was looking at them.

Draco scrutinised him with an undecipherable expression on his face before grabbing Harry's face in his hands and placing a strong, deep kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry thought he was going to die right here and then.

"Thank you," Draco murmured against his lips, before he kissed him again as the sound of wild applause roared all around them.

For one blissful moment, Harry had forgotten that there were other people around, and that they had just put on a show for the benefit of the Gentlewizards gathered around them.


	4. Chapter 4

 They were both very much lost in their thoughts as they went back to their bedroom that night. It had been quite a day. Harry had expected it, of course - how could it be otherwise when you had to pretend to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy after all? - but he had not anticipated just how much it would shake him.

He let out a breath of relief as they opened the door to their room and he was finally allowed to kick out his shoes and remove his robe. Draco was unusually quiet.

"You okay?" Harry couldn't help asking.

Draco discarded his own robe on a nearby chair by his side of the bed. "Sure. You?"

"Yeah. Tired, though."

"Me too," Draco replied as he unlaced his trousers.

"Are you," Harry tried again. "Are you happy? Pleased with how we did today?"

"Sure. We did well," Draco answered with a tired smile.

Harry smiled back. "Good. I'm glad."

Draco started on the buttons of his shirt. "We looked gorgeous. Together," he said softly. "We make a very nice couple." And with that, he locked himself in the bathroom.

 _Indeed_ , Harry couldn't help thinking. He removed the rest of his clothes and prepared for bed. He kept his underpants and put on an old, comfortable t-shirt; he just hated being cold in the morning. Draco came out of the bathroom with a plain, white - rather tight - t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and Harry went in to brush his teeth.

When Harry stepped into the bedroom again, Draco was already in bed. Harry took a deep breath and tried not to think too much of the fact he was going to share a bed with Draco. He pulled the sheets from his side and lay down, thankful that Draco was turned away from him.

There he was.

"I hope you don't snore," Draco called from the other side of the bed, before turning over and lying on his back, a smirk on his face.

"I don't. You?"

"Of course not, Malfoys don't snore," Draco replied indignantly.

"Right. Good night, then."

"Night, Potter." And Draco turned to face the bathroom door again.

 _It will be okay,_  Harry thought.  _No big deal._  After all, he's shared a room with other boys at Hogwarts for years, so it wasn't very different.  _Except I never felt anything for said other boys back then._

The room wasn't completely dark and the full moon allowed Harry to observe Draco's back unashamedly. It was a beautiful back; sure, it was covered with Draco's t-shirt, which was a shame, really, but still. And Harry knew what he was talking about, because if there was something he liked, it was a nice, muscled back. He had a long career in looking at men's backs. And this one was pretty nice.

Harry's eyes roamed over Draco's body in the semi-darkness again. The beautiful, white-blond hair that was the Malfoys' trademark, the back of his neck, looking so soft and bloody hell, so kissable, and Harry could imagine how it would feel to brush his lips over the pale skin, how the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck would tickle his lips as Harry would kiss his way down-

"Would you quit staring at my back, Potter?"

Harry froze instantly. He didn't reply and simply turned to face the fireplace. He had to focus on his side of the bed, and forget Draco was right next to him.

Right. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think about the events of the evening instead. The dinner had been surprisingly pleasant and the dance had been… Well, the dance had been nice too. Okay, who was he kidding? The dance had been brilliant. He had not stepped on Draco's feet more than ten times, and everybody had applauded them afterwards. Oh, and Draco had kissed him. Twice.

Draco had  _kissed_  him.

Harry pulled down the sheets covering his chest. Bloody hell, it was hot in this room.

* * *

Harry tossed and turned for a while, but no matter how hard he tried, how hard he thought about their current cases at the Ministry, how he really had to clean his desk because it was too much of a mess, no, not even that could distract him from forbidden thoughts.

"Can't sleep either?" Draco said after a while, before turning around and lying on his other side, putting his hands underneath his cheek on the pillow and now facing Harry. They were very close, and Harry had difficulty breathing.

"Yeah…"

"Must be the adrenaline of the game this afternoon. Oh, and the dance, of course."

 _Or being in bed with you,_  Harry's brain provided.

"Something like that," Harry replied instead.

"Right, if we can't sleep, we'd better do something then." Harry's heart beat faster at the thought of doing something while being in bed with Draco. "I know. Tell me all about it. Your first time."

"My- what?"

Even in the semi-darkness, Harry could see Draco roll his eyes. "Your first time, Potter, you know the first time you put your-"

"Okay, I get it. I- er, well."

"Oh, sounds like fun," Draco smirked.

"Shut up." Harry propped himself on his elbow. "Okay, first time with a girl or first time with a boy?"

"Oh, you've been with girls in this way, Potter?"

"Well, yes, Ginny."

"Oh, right, that was a Weasley," Draco said, bringing his hand to his chest in a very dramatic gesture. "God, you scared me at one point, I thought you'd really been with a girl."

"Shut up, you wanker." Harry couldn't help laughing though.

"So, how was it with the Weasel's substitute?" Draco continued.

"What?"

"Oh come on, Potter, everybody knows you dreamed of jumping the Weasel - for some reason all related to a certain degree of insanity - but since you couldn't, you went for his little sister instead."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You're sick. Totally sick. You're a sick man, with a sick, twisted mind."

"Stop that, Potter, this is too much, I'm going to blush."

"Ginny wasn't a substitute for Ron, you git, and thank you very much, but I never, ever fancied Ron in this way, because honestly? That would be, ew."

Draco placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Oh Salazar, no need to convince me on this point, Potter, I totally agree."

"No! I mean, I love Ron, I really, really do." Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I do. But not- Jesus, not in this way at all! No, I really was in love with Ginny, or thought I was anyway."

Draco had a mischievous look. "Enough to put your wand in her-"

"Yes. Enough for that."

"So, how was it, then?"

"It was… well, it was nice. I mean, really nice. It was the summer right after the war, and everything was a little bit confusing at that time, and well, we had got back together, and we were very young, and in a relationship so it felt like the right thing to do."

"To the point, Potter, I want all the juicy details."

"I can't believe you've said juicy, Malfoy."

Draco smirked and made an impatient gesture. "On with it."

"We were both virgins so it wasn't easy, but it was sweet, and also a bit funny because of our inexperience. I think it's much easier when one of the two people involved already has a little bit of experience, but hey, that was fine. We… managed in the end."

"Details, Potter."

"No way. I won't give you details, certainly not."

"Oh come on! How was she? I bet she was loud and couldn't help shouting:  _'Oh, Harry, oh yes, please shove your Probity Probe inside my Goblet on Fire.'_ "

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe they let you in the Auror corps."

"I can't believe they let  _you_  in the Auror corps. Unless they hired you to bore the bad guys to death. You're just no fun." Draco said. "Fine, Mr Spoilsport. What about your first time with a boy then?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, it wasn't all that different."

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, but I was much more nervous than with Ginny."

"Why is that?" Draco looked genuinely curious now.

"Because… Because it felt like a test, you know? Like, I knew at that point I liked boys better than girls, but this was the ultimate step. Until then, I was still theoretically straight, and could still fool myself I would end up getting married to a girl and have children but when I first- When I first got intimate with a boy, all of that vanished and I knew for sure I would never go back to being with a girl, ever."

"Who was the boy?" And it was weird, this seriousness in Draco's tone all of a sudden. The atmosphere had changed, and now, Harry could tell Draco really was interested in what he had to say.

"It was… it was a Muggle."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Really, Potter?"

"Yeah… I- I needed to know, and I knew that if I went out with a wizard, it would most likely hit the headlines and I didn't want that. At the time, nobody really knew about my doubts, and I didn't want anybody to interfere with my love life. I wanted to take my time, so I started going to these gay Muggle clubs on weekends."

"You've fucked a stranger for your first time?"

"No. He- well, yes, I suppose. It all happened really fast. I met him in the club, we danced a little together-"

Draco gaped at Harry. "You danced? You, Harry James Potter, imposed your terrible, terrible dancing skills on some poor random guy? And he still wanted to bed you after that?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Fuck you."

"Was that your pick-up line with him?" Draco smirked.

"No! God, you're-"

"Continue."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "We went back to his place and we started kissing and it felt… It was nice. Very nice."

"Wasn't it all weird what with your stubble and the lack of- you know." Draco had his hands cupped in front of his chest.

"Well, no. It felt pretty good. I- Honestly, I didn't think about that, I was way too focused on the fact it was a huge step, that I was about to sleep with a boy, and that after that there probably wouldn't be a way back."

"Were you nervous?"

"Hell, yeah. But then, he had done it before, and for a guy I had picked up at a gay club, he was pretty nice and understanding."

"Did you top?" Draco asked casually and Harry felt himself blush.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, do you really have to be so blunt about everything?"

"Well, yeah? I need to picture it in my head, and I can't if-"

"You're unbelievable."

"I'm often told that," Draco replied with a smile. "So did you? Top?"

"Yes, I- I did, that time, yes, I topped, which I guess is easier for a first time."

"Yeah…" Draco trailed off, suddenly lost in his thoughts.

"What about you?" Harry countered, wishing to change the subject.

"Huh?"

"How was it? Your first time?"

There was a huge silence all of a sudden, and Harry wondered if Draco had had a traumatising first time that prevented him from talking about it. Harry scrutinised Draco in the semi-darkness of the room, and could see all kinds of emotions running on his face, as if he hesitated on the next thing to say.

After a while, as Harry was about to tell him to forget about it, he finally said. "I don't know."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean, you don't know?" Had Draco not been fully conscious during his first time?

"I-" He looked deep into Harry's eyes and sighed. "I've never…" he trailed off.

Oh bloody fucking Godric.

"You mean you- You mean you've never-"

"Yes, Potter, I've never done it with anyone, there, you happy?" Draco lashed out and angrily turned around, taking most of the sheets with him and leaving Harry staring at his back once again.

This was crazy. They were in their twenties and Draco had never, ever been intimate with anyone? How was that even possible?

"Fuck you, Potter. I don't need your pity."

"I-"

"Drop it. I should never have told you anything in the first place."

"No! I'm- Thank you for telling me, it was-"

"Fucking stupid of me." Draco turned around and faced Harry again. "Of course you wouldn't understand what with all the drooling fans fawning all over you. Must be so hard to be the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World and have half of its population wanting to jump your bones," he spat again.

"Draco…"

"Don't- Don't 'Draco' me now. It's already embarrassing enough."

"Right. I'm sorry, I was just- just surprised that's all. I mean, you're- you're-"

"I'm what, Potter?" Draco snapped.

 _You're beautiful, and smart, and funny and fucking brilliant,_  Harry's brain provided unhelpfully.

"I don't understand, to be honest," Harry said.

"We've already talked about that, Potter, remember? In your pathetic flat," Draco spat.

"But surely, there must be-"

"No. There aren't. Believe me, Potter, I tried." And with that, Draco turned his back again.

There was a long, loaded silence. Harry's mind was reeling. How come Draco hadn't found anybody to be with? Nobody to be intimate with, to have a relationship with, to go on a fucking date with. Draco didn't have any of that?

"I-" Harry started.

"That's fine, Potter, I won't have to wait for long now, thanks to Father."

"You mean-"

"Astoria Greengrass, yes. I suppose she will be my first."

Of course. Harry suddenly felt incredibly jealous of Astoria bloody Greengrass who would have the privilege to-

"What?" Draco asked from his side of the bed.

"Nothing, I was just-"

"Spit it out, Potter," Draco said turning once again to face him.

"I-" Harry sighed. "I just find it sad to have a first time with someone you don't even love."

"That's because you're a fucking romantic, Potter. In my world, there's no such thing as being in love. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter? But Draco, of course, it matters!"

"Yeah, because you know all about steady, loving relationships," Draco snorted. "Haven't you just told me you'd had your first time with a total stranger?"

"Don't change the subject. This isn't about me. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Want? What does want have to do with any of it? I told you, I don't have a fucking say on this. Of course, this is not what I want."

"So why are you doing this, then?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE!"

"Shhh! Are you crazy? Do you want them to throw us out in the middle of the night?"

Harry turned around and reached for his wand on the bedside table. He cast a quick  _Muffliato_  around them to prevent them from waking the whole mansion.

"Of course, you have a choice. You always have a choice. Why is it so important-"

"It is. The only important thing is to rehabilitate the Malfoy name. And the only way to do that is for me to marry a pure-blood witch and produce an heir. There is no other option."

"So you're sacrificing yourself for the sake of your name?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking more determined than ever. "I won't be the Malfoy to fuck everything up."

"But you're not! If anyone is ever responsible for that, it's your father, not you! You don't have to pay for his mistakes!"

"They are not all his," and Draco held up his arm and pointed at his Dark Mark again. "I did this by myself, nobody forced me, especially not my father."

"Maybe, but-"

"It doesn't change anything, Potter. It really doesn't." Draco's tone was softer now. "Even if I did want something else, I couldn't have it. And for that matter, I'm sure Astoria Greengrass is crying her eyes out at the thought of having me as a husband."

Harry didn't say anything for a while. He just couldn't believe Draco still had such a weight on his shoulders. And then, despite everything, Harry knew there must be something-

"It doesn't have to be this way," he softly said.

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Your first time. It doesn't have to be with someone you don't care about." Harry bit his lip. Bloody hell, sometimes he wished his inner Gryffindor would bugger off to somewhere far, far away.

Draco looked at him, and said very slowly. "Are you offering?"

Harry's heart was beating so fast now that Harry feared Draco could hear it. "I don't know. Maybe?"

Draco came closer, so close Harry could feel his breath on his face and he shivered.

"And why would you do that?"

"Because… I'm your friend, and well."  _I want you so bad it hurts._

Draco looked at Harry for a long time, his eyes roaming all over his face, as if trying to find answers. "No."

Harry felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. "Okay."

"I don't want- No. Good night, Potter." And Draco turned once again away from Harry who felt instantly empty and cold.

"Right, good night."

"Potter?" Draco called over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For, you know, offering."

"Any time, Draco."

* * *

Harry was resting on his side, facing the bedroom door and oscillating between wakefulness and unconsciousness when he felt the bed shift behind him. He froze as the next second, the warmth of Draco's body radiated on the back of his own and he felt a touch so light at the nape of his neck that it took him a whole second to realise it was the softest brush of lips. The hairs on his body instantly stood on end as at the same time, Draco's tentative hand rested on his waist.

Harry swallowed hard. It couldn't. How-

"Draco?" Harry whispered.

"Shhh," Draco answered before letting his hand slowly run over Harry's stomach, settling there and sending a thrill down Harry's spine. Harry hastily pressed his own hand on Draco's, to prevent it from moving any further.

"What- What are you doing?" And Harry did all he could not to moan when at the same time Draco came closer still and pressed his chest flush against Harry's back.

"I'm taking you up on your offer. If it still stands," Draco whispered in Harry's ear.

Oh dear God. Harry's heart beat faster at the thought of- No, it couldn't, Draco wouldn't just-

"Are you having second thoughts?" Draco asked again in Harry's ear, his warm breath tickling Harry's skin like crazy, sending goose bumps all over him.

"I- Draco, are you sure? Because if we do that, if we, well, if you, you know, there won't be a way back."

"I'm sure. You were right. I want to do it with someone I care about. Not with Astoria sodding Greengrass."

"And- And you care about me? I mean, enough to do something like this?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"What do you think? Of course I care about you."

"So you-"

"Bloody hell, Potter!" Draco said suddenly rolling Harry over and forcing him to look at him. "If you didn't want to do it with me, you shouldn't have proposed it in the first place."

"What? Oh Merlin, no. I do- God, I do want to do it with you but-"

"So what's the problem?"

 _The problem is it's not right,_  Harry's brain provided.  _The problem is I want you so badly, and have for so long, that it wouldn't be fair to you._ Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Of course, it wouldn't. What the hell had he been thinking about? This was a big mistake. A big, fat, huge mistake.

He opened his eyes again to look at Draco. "I can't. I've changed my mind. This- this is not right," Harry said in a breath, and felt much better saying it, despite everything. He just couldn't do that to Draco.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Draco said in anger. "What kind of a fucking tease are you anyway, proposing before taking it back the moment I agree?"

Harry couldn't look him in the eye and lowered his gaze on the mattress. "I- Draco, we can't do this, it was a stupid idea. This is a huge step, something way too important to happen like this." Curiously, he found strength in his own words, and looked up at Draco. "Believe me, you don't want your first time to be with me."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "And what if I do? Why don't you let me be the judge of it? I am a grown man, I can make my own decisions, Potter." He came closer to Harry, so close that Harry could see the little specks of blue in Draco's grey eyes when he looked up. "Do you really think I would say yes to anybody? Do you really think I would give myself to anybody just like that?"

"But-"

"I want to do it," Draco went on, whispering the words now, "I want to do it with you because you're the most selfless person I know and I know you will take good care of me. I want to do it with you and nobody else because I care about you, because I know you care about me, and because I trust you, and believe me, that says a lot because Malfoys don't trust easily."

Harry took his time to ponder what Draco had just told him. After all, they were both adults, both consenting so…

He took a deep breath. "Okay, then."

Draco's lips curled up in a beautiful smile. "Good."

"And you will top, okay?"

"Of course, Potter."

Right. Harry would have to take things slow and make sure everything he did was all right with Draco. "You have to promise me to tell me if I ever do anything you don't like, or if there is-"

He was silenced by Draco's lips as he pressed them firmly on Harry's in a heated kiss that left Harry trembling.

Draco pulled away and smiled again. "You talk too much."

Their faces were so close, it felt like in a dream. And maybe it was, Harry thought. But then, fuck it.

Harry lunged himself at Draco and kissed him fiercely this time.  _Finally._

It was absolutely brilliant. Much better than any of the fantasies Harry had had until then. Draco pressed his body closer to Harry's, entangling their legs together as he rested his hand on Harry's back and flicked his tongue on Harry's lips. Harry parted them willingly and they kissed with even more intensity. God it was amazing to finally get to taste Draco like that, and Harry revelled in how right it all felt. He moved a hand to Draco's hair, running his fingers in it reverently. Harry had never, ever kissed anyone like this before. It was- bloody hell, it was everything he had ever dreamed about.

His hands were moving frantically over Draco now, and he shifted slightly, before settling himself on top of Draco, straddling him.

So much for taking things slow.

They started kissing again, and Draco's hands ran all the way down Harry's back, before resting on Harry's arse. Harry broke the kiss suddenly and held his head back, closing his eyes and letting out a moan as he felt something indisputably hard poking at his backside.

Holy Merlin.

Draco was  _hard_. He was hard over  _Harry_. And he wanted Harry in a way Harry had never dreamed he would.

Harry snapped his eyes open when Draco's hands left his buttocks and he cupped Harry's head, crushing their mouths together again. Bloody hell, it was so intense, so needy, so fucking good that Harry wasn't sure he could ever kiss anybody else after that, because honestly, what would be the point?

He left Draco's mouth and moved his lips down his neck, tasting him there and revelling in his scent, drowning in all the little gasps and faint moans coming from his mouth, on his fingers tangled in his hair. It wasn't a surprise, really, that Draco - so expressive and alive in life in general - would be so responsive, but fuck, it turned Harry on even more, if that were possible. He let his hands wander under Draco's shirt as Draco pulled him closer, everything so urgent, and at the same time, so beautifully sweet. He looked down at Draco, tugging at his t-shirt before pulling it over Draco's head, his hands brushing his skin in the process, and soon Draco was naked to the waist, in all his pale glory, Harry's hands on him instantly, as if attracted to it by an invisible force.

He roamed his hands on Draco's chest, over the pale expanse of skin, raising goose bumps all over it, Draco's nipples hard under Harry's touch.

Harry lowered himself and kissed Draco's lips softly again, kissed him on his chin, flicking out his tongue and running it slowly all the way down to Draco's collarbone. Draco's hands were back in his hair, and caressed it gently, sending shivers down his spine.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he noticed the faint scar running from Draco's neck all the way down to the opposite hip. He raised his head and looked up at Draco who removed a strand of hair from Harry's forehead and nodded slowly. Harry lowered his mouth onto Draco's chest again, kissing the tip of the scar he had inflicted all those years ago, before slowly trailing kisses all the way down, in a silent plea for forgiveness. Soon, he left the scar to kiss Draco's stomach, his hands flat on Draco's sides, running them up and down as he kept kissing him over and over again like a starving man.

Draco gasped as Harry's fingers hooked up in the waistband of his boxers but he murmured a barely audible, "Please," when Harry paused to look up at him. Harry bit his bottom lip and slowly pulled Draco's underpants down, his hands brushing along his thighs before removing them completely and discarding them on the bed. Only then did Harry allow himself to take a look at Draco's cock, proudly erect before his eyes, as he unconsciously wetted his lips with his tongue.

He knelt back next to Draco on the bed and removed his own t-shirt before standing up and discarding his own pair of boxers. Draco's eyes drifted to Harry's cock as Harry knelt back on the bed and Draco's hand reached for his hip again, gently bringing him back on top of him. They were skin to skin this time and it was pure bliss. They kissed again slowly, hands caressing everywhere, no words exchanged, only sighs and faint moans as fingers brushed against soft burning skin. Draco's hands ran down Harry's back and hesitated before settling on Harry's arse, eliciting another moan from Harry who kissed Draco deeper again, as they rubbed themselves against each other in a delicious friction.

Bloody hell. Harry had lost the last shred of control he thought he had kept until then.

His hand ventured down Draco's body until it reached its destination, eliciting a soft groan Harry swallowed eagerly with a kiss as he took hold of Draco's shaft. There was something so insanely erotic in the touch of another man's dick, this mix between the silkiness of the skin and the hardness of the shaft itself that turned Harry on no end every single time. And knowing that it was Draco Harry was touching in such an intimate way added to the excitement. Harry stroked him up and down as gently as his trembling hand allowed, Draco's hips soon bucking against him, his head dropping back, exposing his neck to Harry who dived in and kissed him again there, slowly increasing the movement of his hand.

Harry found his way back to Draco's lips and the kiss was more urgent now as Draco was getting lost in the sensations of Harry's hands on him, whimpering against his lips. The intensity of it threatened to take Harry as well, as he slowly kissed his way down Draco's body, only stopping when he had reached his destination. He looked once more at Draco, who nodded frantically.

Harry closed his eyes and lowered his mouth, flicking out his tongue to finally taste Draco there.

It was surreal. It was beyond everything Harry had imagined in his wildest fantasies. Draco's hands were back in Harry's hair and Harry could feel them trembling as he licked Draco reverently, from top to bottom and back up again. Draco gasped, his whole body shaking as Harry took him fully in his mouth and they both groaned together again, Draco tugging at Harry's hair almost painfully now as Harry bobbed his head up and down, revelling in Draco's taste, in the softness of his skin, wishing to memorise every sensation, every touch and every sound leaving Draco's mouth.

When Harry felt Draco close, he removed his mouth with a soft pop and went all the way back up Draco's body. He placed one hand on his cheek, caressing him gently before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"You okay?" he asked and Draco's face lit up at once as he looked at Harry with a funny expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe Harry could ask such a stupid question.

"What do you think?" Draco murmured against Harry's lips before kissing him again with renewed vigour.

Harry broke the kiss reluctantly and squirmed to reach his wand. That was it. He took hold of Draco's hand, murmuring a spell that covered his fingers with slick lubricant. Harry discarded his wand on the bedside table and lay back down on the bed, still holding Draco's hand, bringing him closer. Harry's gaze found Draco's as he spread his legs and took hold of his own erection, tugging at it a couple of times before bringing Draco's hand closer to his groin, inviting it between his legs. Draco got the hint and started to rub his slick fingers between Harry's legs, gently circling his entrance.

Harry arched his back and closed his eyes briefly. Fuck. Draco misinterpreted Harry's reaction and froze.

"No, don't- don't stop, Draco, it's just- fuck, it's so, so good."

"Right," Draco simply said and touched Harry again.

Harry let go of his cock and grabbed Draco's wrist. "Put your fingers inside me now, one after the other," he said gently, because he knew it was complicated to think straight in such an intense moment.

"Very romantic, Potter," Draco muttered with a soft smile, but he complied and soon Harry felt one finger enter him slowly. Draco stopped almost immediately and searched Harry's eyes.

"Go on," Harry said in a breath and focused on the sensations of Draco's finger slowly breaching him, Draco so serious and concentrating on not hurting him that a cleft formed between his eyebrows. Harry reached for Draco's cheek with his hand, caressing him gently and bringing him closer, before kissing him softly on the lips. He felt Draco relax a little and soon felt his finger fully inside him.

Harry refrained from clenching too hard on Draco's finger, but it was so, so good, that it was almost impossible.

"Please…" Harry said in a broken voice and Draco removed his finger before pushing it in again, moving slowly in and out a few times.

"Oh!" Harry said as Draco inserted another finger and he let out a deep breath, allowing himself to drown into the wonderful sensations.

After a while, it was all too much, and not enough at the same time. Harry caught Draco's hand and removed it from between his legs. He was ready for more. Merlin, he had never felt more ready for anything than right now. Draco drew back and knelt next to Harry again. He was trembling.

"Shhh," Harry soothed him, before drawing him in for another languorous kiss, his hands on the back of Draco's head until he felt him relax a little.

Harry reached for his wand again and coated his own fingers with lubricant. He reached for Draco's cock and discarded his wand once more, his eyes never leaving Draco's as he got him ready.

He then turned over and lay down on his stomach, his head resting in his arms as he spread his legs slightly, turning his head to the side so that he could still see Draco.

Draco grabbed hold of his cock and stroked it a few times while his other hand caressed Harry's back, starting in between his shoulder blades and running all the way down to his arse.

Harry let out a sigh and parted his thighs even more and Draco positioned himself, lining up his dick with Harry's entrance, before pressing in achingly slowly. It was… It was just amazing. There were times when you bottomed, Harry had discovered over the years, when your body just wasn't ready for the intrusion, and that, no matter what you did, it just wouldn't work.

This wasn't one of these times. Oh Merlin no. Harry's body welcomed Draco inside him so easily it felt as if they'd done it a thousand times already. There was absolutely no pain, just the amazing sensation of being filled in the best way possible. Draco went all the way in and was soon buried to the hilt. He didn't move and simply wrapped his whole body around Harry, his hands on Harry's sides, his breath ragged, caressing Harry's temple with his lips, placing soft kisses and whispering beautiful nonsense in his ear.

Soon it was too much, and Harry felt Draco shaking again and he knew it was getting harder for Draco not to move. Harry bucked his hips up, signalling Draco it was okay to start moving. Draco backed almost all the way out and placed his hands on Harry's hips before thrusting in slowly.

It was absolutely wonderful.

They started rocking together, gently at first, Harry cradled by the low sounds coming from Draco's mouth and the soft, gentle kisses on his temple. It was- It was simply Heaven. Harry could feel every single thrust deep inside him as they moved together faster, finding their rhythm. Draco's hands soon left Harry's hips and took hold of Harry's on either side of him, entwining their fingers together as they increased the pace again, moving as one, gaining momentum as their lovemaking got more intense by the moment.

"Oh," Draco said, and it was beautiful, this simple syllable falling repeatedly from Draco's mouth into Harry's ear.

Harry had slept with several men before - including Marco, over the last few weeks - but never, never had it felt so remotely good. It was Draco's first time, but in many ways, it also was Harry's, because until then, sex had mostly been a physical act, but this- this was something else altogether. This was Draco trusting Harry for his first time. Draco trusting Harry to make it good for him, to make it sweet, to make it beautiful.

And that's when Harry realised he wanted to see him. Hell, he needed to see him, as fucking good as having Draco take him from behind was. He needed to see Draco's face when he came.

"Draco…" Harry started, "Draco, stop, I- Please-"

"What?" Draco said in a breath, and he slowed down. "Are you okay? Am I- Am I hurting you?"

"Oh, God, no. It's just- It's just- I want to see you."

Draco stopped moving altogether. "Oh. Right, okay."

He slowly withdrew and Harry turned over on his back. "Thank you," he said, pulling Draco to him in another heated kiss, before spreading his legs again. Draco settled between them.

"Come on, Draco," Harry said, one hand still at the back of Draco's head. "Make love to me." And Harry didn't know where that came from, because he'd never said anything like that to anybody before, never felt the need to say it.

Draco whimpered and crushed his mouth against Harry's as he guided himself inside him for the second time that night, and Harry moaned his pleasure in Draco's mouth, wrapping his legs around his waist, refusing to let him go.

There was no stopping them now, as Draco increased his pace, thrusting faster and faster and Harry could see, Harry could feel that Draco was gradually losing control, and he needed to show Draco he was here with him.

He pressed his hand on Draco's chest and Draco smiled at him, this beautiful, fucking gorgeous smile that melted Harry's heart every single time.

Draco caught Harry's mouth with his own again, moving frantically on top of him, applying pressure on the same sensitive spot inside Harry over and over again, making Harry forget about everything else, lost in sensations, drunk from Draco's scent, his touch overwhelming. Draco's face slowly morphed into something else, something pure and beautiful as he finally reached his climax, eyes closed and mouth open in a silent scream and fuck, Harry had been so right to change positions, he had been so right about seeing Draco come because that was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen in his life.

He pressed his heels on the back of Draco's legs, urging him closer, deeper as he felt his own orgasm rise up deep inside, slowly and oh, so intense, and he came between their slicked bodies in long, warm spurts, arms around Draco's neck, hands caressing the nape of his hair, and eyes locked into Draco's, his name on his lips.

Draco's breath was ragged in Harry's ear as he crumbled on top of him and rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder, still inside him while Harry stroked his hair gently, closing his eyes, his mouth on Draco's still damp shoulder as they slowly drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

 Harry woke up to the most beautiful vision, as the events of the previous night slowly came back to him.

Draco was sprawled on his stomach, arms spread across the bed, his face peaceful and relaxed. He looked so young and vulnerable like that, so fucking perfect that Harry's heart clenched when he remembered this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see Draco like that, so oblivious to the rest of the world. He shrugged the feeling away and focused on the present, staring raptly at the perfect lines of Draco's body, the curve of his gorgeous half-covered arse, the beautiful, soft blond hair, to his slightly parted full lips. Harry wanted nothing more than to ravish him right here and then.

He got up and headed to the bathroom instead.

He took a long shower, resisting the urge to touch himself as he tried to block the memories from the previous night. What was the point in dwelling in that anyway? As glorious as it had been, it was only a one-off, something Harry had done as a favour to Draco in a way, but nothing had changed; in the end, Draco still had to marry Astoria Greengrass so there was really no need for Harry to agonise about something that could never be.

He went out of the shower and dried himself thoroughly. For the first time this weekend, he wished he could just go home and vegetate in front of the telly. But no, they still had to go through most of the day here. He would do that, and then they would go home. Well, Draco would go back to his own flat, since there would be no need for him to stay at Harry's anymore.

Fuck. He needed to get a grip on his life. Draco was right. He needed to go out more and find a new boyfriend, someone who didn't have to marry some pure-blood witch for the sake of a fucking bloodline, someone uncomplicated, someone nice and easy to be with. He would let go of Draco, and stop pining over him, because that couldn't lead to anything good.

When he entered the bedroom again, Draco was still asleep. He tiptoed out of the room, opting to take a walk in the beautiful gardens, to clear his mind and take advantage of the early morning sun.

He went through the long corridor, the antique Persian rug muffling his footsteps. He passed several heavy wooden doors - probably more guest bedrooms - and soon reached the beautiful oak staircase. He had his hand on the banister and was about to go down the stairs, when voices caught his attention further away on his right. They were coming from the corridor facing theirs, where Harry had never been. Maybe there were private conference rooms over there?

It wasn't Harry's business in any way, so he started down the stairs but froze again as this time, something attracted his attention. He wondered for a second if he had not dreamt it, but then, he heard it again, and this time, there was no mistake about it.

_Malfoy._

They were talking about Draco.

Harry took a look at the stairs. Deep inside, he knew he should just forget about it and go down for his walk. That was the reasonable thing to do.

And that's why of course, Harry forgot all about reason and found himself walking stealthily down the other corridor. He cast a  _Muffliato_  over himself in order not to be heard and looked for the origin of the voices. He didn't have to go far; the fourth door on the right was slightly open and he could hear the voices more clearly now. Harry flattened himself on the wall right next to it and then very slowly brought his head through the crack of the door.

From what Harry could see, the room was in fact an office of some sort. There were three people in the smoky room, although Harry could only see one of them. Meehan was smoking a huge cigar, a glass of what looked like Firewhisky in his hand. Wasn't it a little bit early for Firewhisky? Harry thought fleetingly. He recognised the voices of the other two as those of Langdon and Loras.

"… Because if we start accepting people like him, then what will the other members say?" Meehan said haughtily.

"I've personally had complaints from our fellow members, who were rather indisposed by Malfoy's particularly tasteless behaviour throughout the day yesterday," Loras replied.

Harry swallowed hard. Fuck.

"Sweet Merlin, yes!" Meehan added, and Harry hated the obvious glee in his voice. He was clearly enjoying himself very much. "I can't really blame them, to be honest. The guy is a total nutter. And a poofter of the most unrefined variety I should say. Did you see how he was parading with Potter on his arm like he owned the place?"

"Yes, it was pretty disgusting, putting on a show like that and displaying their inappropriate behaviour to our respectable members. Bloody hell, I wonder how Potter puts up with him on a daily basis, especially if he's like that in the bedroom!" Loras snorted.

Harry's heart broke as Meehan and Loras both laughed raucously.

He wanted to curse them so bad. He was holding his wand so tight now that he was afraid it would break. He took a deep breath and focused on the rest of the conversation. Langdon had remained suspiciously silent all along, and Harry knew he was the one really in charge there. The other two were too stupid to be the brains of the organisation.

"That is not my main concern to be honest," Langdon finally spoke and the room went quiet at once. "Need I remind you, Gentlewizards, that our International Congress will take place right here next summer? We certainly don't need people with doubtful pasts to cast a shade on our respectable organisation, especially as we are about to celebrate its seven hundredth anniversary."

"I agree," Meehan said.

"So, what do you suggest?"

"We reject his application of course," Langdon said flatly and Harry closed his eyes. He knew it was bound to happen, but a slight part of him still hoped Draco would be able to join, just because he knew Draco was dying to be accepted.

"Well, that was the plan from the very beginning, right? You never had any serious intention to let someone like him join, did you?" Loras said.

"Of course, it was," Langdon replied haughtily. "But we need to be careful. I'm not worried about Malfoy, not one second, he's just pathetic. We've already managed to keep his father at bay, and he was a whole different story, so no, Malfoy won't be a problem. I'm more worried about Potter."

Harry almost jumped at the mention of his name.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's an influential figure at the Ministry, and he defeated You-Know-Who. I have the feeling he won't take his lover's rejection very well. But we'll speak about that later."

Harry swiftly walked away, almost running back to their bedroom, forgetting all about his walk in the garden. His mind was reeling. It wasn't the fact that they didn't like Draco - after all, it was their own little pathetic club, and they could choose whoever they wanted as members. No, it was more to do with Draco's reaction to being rejected. Harry had tried to warn him, but now that the issue was inevitable, he should insist on having a real discussion with him.

Harry stopped in his tracks in front of their bedroom door. What the hell was he doing? Draco was a grown man after all, and not, in any case Harry's responsibility! They weren't a couple, they weren't even friends although… well, maybe they were friends now, Harry wasn't really sure anymore.

All he knew was that he cared for Draco, very much so, and hated to see him hurt. Which he was sure was going to happen soon.

He opened the door to the bedroom.

* * *

"There you are." Draco welcomed Harry as soon as he entered the room.

He was standing by the bed, already dressed - which really was a shame, Harry thought fleetingly before chiding himself - and was bouncing around the room, picking up his clothes and packing them up in his bag.

"What are you waiting for, Potter?" Draco paused with a shirt in his hand, an annoyed look on his face. "We're gonna be late for breakfast."

"Right." Back to normal then. Harry started gathering his own clothes in his bag.

"Can you believe I'm going to be a Gentlewizard?" Draco said. "Father won't believe me when I tell him." Draco beamed and Harry's heart broke a little.

"Well," Harry started. "It wouldn't be a big deal not to be part of this Club, right? I mean, it's not all that interesting, is it?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Of course, it would be a big deal. We've already talked about that, Potter. Why do you think we've spent the whole weekend pretending to be lovers?"

"No, I mean, it would be nice, but honestly, I've been a member for years and I never knew about it, and I can't say I've really missed it all that much," Harry shrugged.

"That's because you know nothing about being a proper wizard, Potter."

"I find the whole thing really boring, to be honest."

Draco dropped the bag he was holding and came closer to Harry. "Okay, what's going on?"

"What?" Harry said, looking up at Draco who scrutinised him as if he were trying to read Harry's mind.

"Spit it out. There's something you're not telling me, I can tell." He narrowed his eyes and came closer still.

Harry had the sudden urge to pull Draco to him and kiss him, but that would probably not be very appropriate right now. "No, there's noth-"

"Cut the crap, Potter," Draco growled.

"Fine," Harry finally said. "They won't accept you. The Gentlewizards. They're going to reject your application."

Draco didn't say a word but Harry saw his mouth twitch. He stared at Harry's face, as if trying to know if he was telling the truth or just playing with him. Harry didn't move an inch.

After a while, he finally said. "And how would you know that?"

"I've heard them. Earlier on. I was on my way to take a walk in the garden, while you were still asleep and I heard voices, so I came closer and-"

"You've eavesdropped on them?" Draco's eyes widened.

"Well, yeah?" Harry shrugged.

"Continue," Draco was trying to remain composed, but Harry could see him flinch a little.

"I- I heard them talking about you, and how they would never accept you in the club."

"Did they say why?"

"Yes," Harry said in a breath, lowering his gaze.

"Harry," Draco said, lifting Harry's chin with his fingers. "What did they say?"

Harry took a deep breath. That was bound to happen.

"Potter," Draco said again. "Why don't they want me in?"

"Basically for the same reasons they rejected your father's application," Harry said quickly. "They don't want you in because it would tarnish their reputation to have an ex-Death Eater among them."

"But I-"

"I know. But they're just a bunch of jerks, really."

Draco went to sit on the bed, looking so defeated it broke Harry's heart.

"Tell me. What they said. Tell me the exact words, Potter, I need to know."

"Draco…"

"Tell me," he said louder. "I'm not a child, I can handle it. Tell me what they said exactly."

Harry took a deep breath and went to sit next to Draco. "They said we were poofters who behaved in an inappropriate manner, displaying our disgusting behaviour to their respectable members."

Draco remained silent for a while, before speaking again. "This is not right. We can't let this pass. They can't claim to be a modern, open-minded organisation and be as bigoted as my father when it comes to things like that. Let me think for a minute."

"Fine," Harry said standing up. "I'll finish packing, then."

"Good."

Draco put himself in his thinking position, his elbows resting on his knees, chin on his thumbs, his index fingers framing his pointed face.

Harry went to the bathroom to retrieve his toiletries. When he came back to the bedroom, Draco stood up.

"Let's go and have breakfast, then."

"What?"

"Breakfast, Potter. You know the thing you have when you get up to avoid having your stomach growl like an angry werewolf?"

"You still want to go? Don't you want to just get the hell out of here instead? I don't fancy staying here one more minute, to be honest."

Draco narrowed his look and licked his lips in a very tantalising fashion. "No. Let's have breakfast, and then we'll go. There's a little something I'd like to tell all these do-gooders before we leave," Draco added with a little smile. "Just- trust me, follow my lead, and don't try to do anything stupid like being all heroic and all that, okay?"

"Okay," Harry replied and he couldn't help smiling as well.

Breakfast was probably going to be fun after all.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

They went down to the huge reception room that had been set for breakfast this time.

Like the night before, they went to sit with Langdon, Loras and Meehan. It was a good thing Draco had asked Harry not to say anything because honestly, it was hard for him to control himself and not punch the bastards in the face. But then, as weird as it may have sounded to his fourteen year old self, he trusted Draco, so he went with the flow.

The conversation started very charmingly, with small talk about the weekend and the country house itself. The food was amazing, and Harry filled his plate with gorgeous baked beans and perfect scrambled eggs.

And then, all hell broke loose.

"I really wanted to thank you for inviting us over, Gentlewizards," Draco started very politely. "I must admit Harry and I have had a wonderful time at this place."

Harry took a look at the three men, who looked rather pleased with Draco's statement.

"It's been our pleasure, really," Loras answered with a fake smile Harry wanted to slap away from his arrogant face.

"I'm sure it has," Draco said seductively, looking deep into Loras's eyes. "So many gorgeous men surrounding us at all times, all so pretty and fit, so many possibilities…" Draco went on, his eyes never leaving Loras's who started to show some signs of discomfort. "This club is a real temptation. I must admit, Langdon, that you have pretty good taste."

And with the last words, Draco placed his left hand on Loras's lap under the table. Loras jumped as if he'd been struck by lightning, and then immediately cast a panicked look at Langdon who frowned slightly, but said nothing. Harry stifled a laugh in his napkin.

"No, really," Draco continued with the poshest accent he could muster. "I can't wait to be a part of your wonderful club and finally have access to all the fun. I personally wouldn't mind having a taste of the present company." Draco said winking at Loras and licking his lips suggestively.

"Unless you'd rather have a taste of our Saviour?" Meehan widened his eyes, finally catching up with what was going on, while Langdon was clenching his teeth, his face livid. "You didn't seem to be able to take your eyes off him yesterday night. I don't mind, really. Harry and I are in a very open relationship. We, poofters, are like that, you know?"

And then, before any of them could say anything, Draco leaned forward and murmured in Loras's ear, loud enough so that the whole table could hear him. "Ever wondered what it'd feel like to have the Chosen One's precious member buried deep inside your tight little virgin arse? I bet you like it hard. I bet you scream for your mother when a real man takes you deep against the wall." Draco's hand went all the way up to Loras's groin.

Loras stood at once. "Stop fondling me, you disgusting faggot! I'm gonna kick your pathetic little queen's arse until you can't walk straight and show you what a real man is!" he spat loudly, and then his face went from disgusted to point-blank horrified at what he had just said.

The room fell silent at once. Every single Gentlewizard present looked at them.

"I think we've seen enough, Draco. Let's just go, now," Harry said standing up and taking hold of Draco's hand.

"Mr Potter!" Langdon called after him. "Mr Potter, please, this is-"

Harry turned a last time to look at him. "And please remove my name from your members' list. I have no desire to be part of such a club. Come, Draco."

And with that, they left the room hand in hand, a huge smile on their faces.

* * *

They Apparated to Harry's flat, still laughing. Bloody hell. That had been brilliant.

And then the mood shifted. Draco still had his hand on Harry's arm from their Apparition as they stood in Harry's living room, facing each other, so close they could kiss. Harry inched closer to Draco's face.

"Right, I- I think I should start gathering my stuff," Draco said. He let go of Harry's arm and unshrunk the cardboard boxes they had stacked under the couch and started Summoning the various objects he had displayed in Harry's flat to make it look like they lived together.

Harry sighed and took out his wand to help Draco. They worked in silence for a while. Harry then went to the wall to unhook the painting Draco had put there.

"No," Draco said. "Leave it. It looks good on your wall and adds a little touch of colour that's rather welcome here."

Harry looked at the painting and then at Draco. "Are you sure?"

"I mean it. Keep it, Potter."

"Right, thank you."

"You're welcome."

There was a sharp thud on the window. Draco froze as Harry moved to open it for the Malfoys' beautiful eagle owl.

He took the parchment from the owl before letting it go and handed the letter to Draco.

Draco read it silently. He then folded it without a word and discarded it in his pocket, before plastering a smile on his lips.

"Brilliant," Draco started. "They agree. The Greengrasses. I have to meet them in an hour at the manor and soon, I'll be a married man."

"Great," Harry said before throwing Draco's books. They landed loudly in the box.

Draco grabbed his arm as Harry was about to close the box. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, performing the spell sticking the flaps of the box together.

"Don't you start. If you have something to say, just say it," Draco replied, tightening his hold on Harry and forcing him to look at him. There was a deafening silence, and then. "You don't want me to marry her."

"No shit," Harry muttered.

Draco released him and went to the window, holding his hands together behind his back. "I have no choice."

Harry stared at Draco's back before taking hold of the box. "Yes, you do. Of course you do. We always have a choice."

Draco turned around. "I fucking don't."

There was a loud thud and it took Harry a second to realise he had let go of the box. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth.

"I don't understand you," Draco snapped. "Why do you even care?"

Harry felt something burn deep inside him, something wild, as words left his mouth before he fully realised it. "I care because I fucking love you, you stupid fuck! And you don't even have the decency to notice."

Draco froze at Harry's words. They looked at each other for the longest time. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Draco growled and Harry's heart beat faster. "We wouldn't last a week together."

"And how do you know?" Harry yelled. "We're good together. Fuck, no, we're  _great_  together. If you'd somehow open your eyes you'd see it too, you fucking prick!"

"Are you quite done insulting me?"

"No," Harry said in a breath. He could feel his cheeks burning with anger as he took hold of the last cardboard box and he threw it into the fireplace.

Draco scrutinised him for a while before joining him there. "I'm off. And don't wait for me. Go out and find someone to make you happy. Anyone but me. Goodbye, Potter," and he took a handful of Floo powder and threw it in.

"Oh no, you don't." Harry grabbed Draco roughly by the arm, making him sway a little and preventing him from leaving. "I don't want anybody else, you fucking pillock, I want you! And I know you want me too. Damn it, Draco, can't you just for one second stop being so fucking stubborn?"

"You're delusional, Potter. I don't want you," Draco snarled. "Now let go of me."

"I'll let go of you if you tell me you feel absolutely nothing for me. If you tell me what happened yesterday night means nothing to you." Harry was beyond angry now. "Say it," he said through clenched teeth.

Draco's face turned slightly pink. It took him a few seconds too long to compose himself before he answered. "It didn't mean anything." His face was shut, his features harder than ever. "And even if it did, it wouldn't change anything." Harry felt like he was getting stabbed in the chest with every single word. "I'm sorry you think you fell in love with me. You should have known better than fall for a Malfoy, Potter, really."

"Fine," Harry finally said, letting go of Draco. "Have a good life with your little pure-blood wife, then," he spat before turning around and heading for his bedroom. The sound of the door slamming behind him covered Draco's voice as he said, "Malfoy Manor."

* * *

Harry's mind was clouded when he opened his wardrobe and took a good look at the neatly folded stacks, organised in piles by colours.

He swiped the top shelf containing his tee-shirts with his hand first, sending them pooling in a heap at his feet. He did the same with the second shelf before attacking the ones holding his jeans and sweaters. He removed his underpants and socks drawers from their hinges and emptied them, before throwing them on top of the clothes scattered on the floor. Finally, he removed every single robe and shirt from their hangers, letting them fall at the bottom of his wardrobe in a satisfying mess. Soon the wardrobe was empty, and there were clothes all over the place.

Harry then grabbed a handful of tee-shirts from the floor and went to this living room where he sent them up in the air. They landed all over his couch and floor.

Finally, he took out his wand and aimed it at Draco's painting. " _Reducto!_ " The painting was reduced to dust.

And then he went out.

* * *

Harry didn't know how long he walked, only that when he came back home, it was already dark.

When he opened the door, he had forgotten about his little stunt from earlier on and despite everything, a smile formed on his face at the mess in his tiny flat.

And then he froze.

Draco was sitting on his couch, his back to Harry.

Harry felt anger creeping up inside him at an alarming rate but the moment Draco turned his head to look at him, it melted away.

Draco looked different; he looked defeated.

"I couldn't," Draco simply said, tearing himself from Harry's gaze.

And just like that, every single thing Harry had wanted to tell Draco, every single thought that had crossed his mind in the past couple of hours simply evaporated. He walked to the couch and sat next to Draco who immediately pressed his foot against Harry's.

"I saw them," Draco went on, his voice barely more than a whisper, fixing a spot on his trousers. "And I just couldn't picture myself living their lives. Not- not like that. It was- It was a daunting prospect and anyway, I just couldn't do it."

Harry managed to ignore the sound of his heart, beating so loud in his chest he was afraid Draco could hear it. There were a million things he wanted to ask Draco. A million things he wanted to know. And yet.

"What did they say?"

Draco smiled shyly. "They didn't like it, as you can imagine. Father- well, let's say I hope Mother will be able to make him see reason and that one day, he'll forgive me," he sighed.

"That bad?" Harry murmured and Draco nodded. "What about your mother then?"

Draco's smile was back on his face, a wider one this time, and it felt good to see the Draco Harry knew and loved so much slowly resurface. "I think she's always known. Deep inside. That I was-" He bit his lip.

Harry nodded. "They'll come around."

"Let's just hope so." And there was a hint of sadness in Draco's eyes at this moment that broke Harry's heart a little.

"Come here," Harry said and Draco leaned forward without hesitation and rested his head on Harry's chest. Harry immediately enveloped him in his arms, hands caressing his hair. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by Draco's scent as he rested his chin on his head.

Draco sighed again and closed his eyes, and Harry could see him relax a little in his arms.

"I lied. Earlier on. I shouldn't-" Harry's heart sped up again. "What I told you, it was- I shouldn't have."

"I know," Harry said softly.

He placed his fingers under Draco's chin and lifted it gently, before leaning forward and brushing his lips to Draco's, still slightly hesitant, not wanting to force Draco into something he might not want yet. But Draco pressed his lips against Harry's and there was no hesitation. They kissed and it was slow. They kissed and it was wonderful. Harry ran his tongue over Draco's bottom lip and Draco parted his mouth as his fingers found their way on the back of Harry's neck, caressing his hair, sending shivers all over Harry's body as they kissed with more intensity, Harry pulling Draco closer still as he tried not to drown on every single breath, every single whimper coming from Draco's mouth.

They parted briefly to gather their breath, foreheads pressed together as a warmth Harry had barely known before invaded his own body, filling him with sensations he didn't even know existed.

Draco chuckled and his warm breath tickled Harry's face in the best way possible.

"What?" Harry asked, puzzled, still panting, bracing himself for whatever Draco had in mind.

"I think that's it." Draco looked particularly proud of himself. His lips lingered over Harry's cheek, down to the tender spot under his ear. Harry tilted his head to allow Draco to cover his neck.

"What?" Harry managed to say again, closing his eyes and moaning at the wonderful sensations of Draco's lips against his skin.

"I found it." He licked Harry's neck softly and Harry groaned.

"You found what?"

"The perfect boyfriend for you." Draco pressed a kiss on Harry's neck before looking at him, looking particularly proud of himself.

Harry chortled. "You-" he said, his voice catching in his throat. "It's always been-"

"Yes." And Draco pressed his lips against Harry's again. "I know."

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! ♥
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://sophiefrench77.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I wrote a silly companion piece for this fic that you can find here: [Stick to the Report](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2377427)
> 
>   **05/03/16 There is a sequel to this fic and it's called A Madness Most Discreet! You can find it[here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6148987/chapters/14088400) ♥**


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